Leaves of Grass
by CrownsofLaurels
Summary: Desperate mothers will do anything to protect their children, even sign them up to become child soldiers. SI/ third war era AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is 'Leaves of Grass,' which has absolutely nothing to do with Walt Whitman, I promise. It's a story about the ripple effects of a SI inserted into Third War era Naruto. To try and distinguish this story, I'm trying to write in accordance with the following:

-Refrain from using the SI pov. If possible, I'd like to complete the story without ever writing from the SI's pov. Instead, I'm trying to 'show' what the SI is experiencing through other character's perspectives.

-The SI develops naturally as a child. Brain development wouldn't allow the SI to immediately have access to prior adult memories or be able to interpret or understand those memories once she can have access to them.

-Delve into Third War politics/Shinobi Worldbuilding. There's not a lot of detail provided about the Third War in cannon, I want to flesh that out and show the civilian/nobility/ninja tensions that would have led to such a war. I want this to be a story about the war, not a 'coming of age' story (although some characters may grow up during this period).

-Tell the story with an ensemble cast, rather than one main character/protagonist. The story primarily shifts between the pov's of the Sannin, Team Minato, the SI and her OC mother (to get a civilian perspective). Other individuals will be introduced as needed, but won't necessarily become recurring characters. (Kushina is already intruding on that point, she very well may become part of the main ensemble).

-Keep the SI's OC parent as a central/essential part of the story.

Where I've intentionally departed from canon:

-The ages of Team Minato-We start with Obito as 10, Rin as 8, and Kakashi as 6. I have detailed reasons for this, but it boils down to 'I'm the author and this is the way I want it.' I can explain more if someone is really bothered by it, but don't feel like writing two paragraphs on the matter at this point in time.

-Obito's backstory—I'm changing his family background slightly.

-Dan—He's alive. It's really confusing that Dan supposedly died during the Second War (according to canon) and yet was alive to take Shizune to school (canon) which couldn't have happened until the Third War (canon). I've resolved this by prolonging Dan's death by a war. I'm not sure whether he survives this story, that's still up for debate. (Even if you have a theory that would make the above points make sense—Dan's alive for the purposes of this story, at least for a little while).

Other FAQ:

-This first chapter is 90% OCs, but that makeup changes significantly within the next chapters and by chapter 5 we've reversed it to 75% canon characters and 25% OCs, which is where the makeup is likely to stay.

-Because the story is written in a 'slice of life' style, the pacing is slow and the story itself isn't action-oriented. Please do not ask for that to change.

* * *

Leaves of Grass

The local market was busier than usual for this time of day, stalls crowded with men and women stopping to gossip about the latest news from over the river. Usually the people meandering about the small town were amiable and laidback, but today shoulders were tense, voices whispered, and steps were hurried. For a town full of civilians nestled close to the country's Hidden Village, it was clear that the fragile political truces that had held the peace between the shinobi factions for a decade or so were on the verge of collapse. It felt like the softest breath would be enough to send any one of the greater bordering nations teetering over the edge, into a public declaration of war.

Unfortunately, it looked like Grass Country would be the stomping grounds this time, geographically speaking.

Rain Country had been the last to hold that honor. They still hadn't rebuilt; still hadn't recovered. According to the rumors that reached the civilians out here in Takai Bokusouchi, Rain Country was stuck in a vicious, cyclical civil war prolonged by rogue Amegakure shinobi and was well on its way to destroying itself.

Chiyoko stumbled as a burly man knocked into her when she entered the local apothecary, the chiming bells tied to the door ringing in her ears.

"Watch it," said the man with a grunt, beady eyes barely registering her presence.

She bit her tongue to keep from retorting, and instead hurried inside to complete her errands. She was running late already, she didn't have to time to snap at dullards. Something about jewels and swine, as her daughter would say—oh, no, pearls before swine. That's how it went. She was forgetting things.

The twenty-four year old woman hummed nervously to herself as she scanned the shelves, fingers tracing the words on the plaques which explained the products. This apothecary, the largest in the town, was run by an older couple. They were assisted only by their youngest daughter, a girl around Chiyoko's age who'd stayed with her parents and never married. The family of three was usually capable of keeping the shop well stocked, despite the fact that they mixed all their remedies themselves. In the past two weeks though, they'd struggled to keep up with a demanding, anxious population wanting to prepare themselves for an uncertain future. The shelves, normally full of red and green and blue ceramic bottles, held only one or two of each product, or more often, were completely empty.

Chiyoko finally reached the salves and made a small disappointed sound. She knew it'd been wishful thinking to hope that they'd have the one item she needed in stock. She blew some errant bangs from her eyes with a huff of frustration. The teal bottles sitting on the shelf were an aloe based solution, and she'd been told to try the peppermint and basil solution if the aloe hadn't worked. Unfortunately, the little red bottle she needed wasn't present, so she'd have to get in line and talk with Izumi-san about placing an order. She straightened and turned around, heading toward the line at the front of the store.

The very long line of about fifteen people, which would, at best, take at least thirty minutes to get through.

Chiyoko braced herself and joined the grumpy cluster of customers, tucking her purse close and crossing her arms. She focused on giving off 'don't talk to me' vibes and ignoring the ache in her feet. She'd been on them all day—not much time for sitting when you were the sole person responsible for a classroom of young, rowdy children. It was baffling, that children could have so much energy contained in such tiny bodies. She loved kids, loved teaching them, loved to see them learn and mature, but still—

Her thoughts couldn't help but stray back to her own daughter, currently being watched by her sister-in-law and waiting for her mother to come and take her home. Most likely very impatiently. Katsumi held little love for her cousins and perhaps even less for her aunt. At least she found her uncle tolerable, but the man worked late into the night and was almost never home.

Usually, Chiyoko dropped her child off at the local nursery, where a group of women watched very young children for parents who worked all day for a small fee. Katsumi liked it much better there, as she could read whatever books she wanted and her caregivers mostly left her to her own devices.

Chiyoko probably could have entered the girl in school a year early, but she was already far ahead of her age mates and there wasn't precedent for advancing students above their years if they had already mastered materials. The Principal was a stern man who certainly wasn't going to break the rules for the young female child of a single mother with no wealth or political ties. And, honestly, Chiyoko didn't want the type of attention flaunting her daughter's intelligence might receive.

Unfortunately, the nursery closed shortly after the school did and if Chiyoko was running late or had errands, her sister-in-law was the only adult available to watch the girl. Eri would pick Katsumi up from the nursery after she collected her own sons from school and watch them all until Chiyoko returned. She had promised Katsumi-chan that she wouldn't have to stay at her Aunt's for long, but a parent had been late today and Chiyoko always stayed with her students until they were picked up, and then with the crowds and the line for the medicine—

"Kinoshita-sensei? Sensei?"

Chiyoko looked down at the small hands tugging on her yukata.

"Arata-kun, don't grab at people!" The little boy's mother drew her eight year old's hands away from the younger woman.

"It's fine," said Chiyoko with a tired smile as she examined the dark-headed woman, "nice to see you again, Fukui-san."

"I miss being in your class, Sensei," chimed in the boy before his mother could return her greeting, "This year I have Kimura Sensei, and he's just mean. He doesn't do the voices in the stories the way he's supposed to, everything's just boring."

Chiyoko crinkled her eyes in amusement.

"I'm so sorry Sensei," muttered Fukui-san—Chiyoko couldn't remember what the woman's first name was, despite having taught two of her children by now.

Arata's mother kept a firm grip on her son's shoulder, to keep him from running off down the aisles of fragile medicine bottles. "He can't stop talking about how his last year was so much better than this year. School's only been going on for a month of course, but he seems convinced you're the only capable teacher there."

Chiyoko pasted on a smile and shared the other woman's pleasant laughter and soaked in the boy's beaming face. She tried to appear happy to accept the compliments, but she kept an eye on the length of the line and herded the small group closer to the counter every time a customer left. As much as she liked to be appreciated, she was kind of in a hurry, and now she had to make cheerful small talk on top of everything else.

"—Of course he'll get the hang of it soon enough. He's just jealous his older brother was selected for shinobi training. We were so surprised, but it's such an honor, of course. He's been writing home about how much he enjoys 'weapons practice' and now I keep finding toy daggers" she ruffled her child's brown hair, "everywhere. I've sent them through the washing machine at least a dozen times. Sooo thankful they aren't real or I would have ruined them and the clothes—probably the machine too!" The woman burst into laughter.

Chiyoko echoed her politely, wishing she or her sister-in-law had access to a washing machine in their home. She remembered those from her childhood, so convenient. Now-a-days they did everything by hand or after a long walk to the laundromat across town. Fortunately for Chiyoko, the laundry was minimal in a two person household. Especially when her own child was disturbingly nit-picky about being clean.

"How's your own daughter?" asked nameless-mother-san with the too-perfect hair. "She'd be about four now, right? I remember her from that class picnic last year. Such a smart little thing."

"Oh yes," agreed Chiyoko, frantically trying to remember who her offspring had offended that particular day— it was always someone. "Well, she's still a smart little thing, reading everything she can get her hands on, you know."

"Reading already?" The woman's brown eyes glowed in interest. "I shouldn't be too surprised, considering who her mother is—"

Chiyoko offered a weak smile and moved forward a step as a sneezing man hurried past them for the door.

"—I just won't ever forget the look on Maka-san's face when your daughter told her—"

"Kinoshita-san?" A petite woman wearing glasses called for her from the counter.

"I'm so sorry," Chiyoko apologized, not sorry at all to miss reliving whatever her daughter had inflicted on the company that day. "I'm being called."

"Of course, of course." The other woman and her son waved her goodbye as she excused herself.

Chiyoko leaned forward on the counter, letting out a relieved breath.

"Long day," asked Izumi sympathetically, tugging idly at her dark messy braid, an old nervous habit. The two women had grown up together in Bokusouchi. Chiyoko had almost thought about going into medicine with her friend, before she determined that her heart was set on becoming a teacher. Still, the circle of well-educated women in this town was small. The circle of women who considered themselves "modern" and "forward-thinking" was even smaller, so Izumi and Chiyoko had always been close, and seen as outsiders and a bit strange by the more traditional women in town. However, the traditional women were happy enough to send their children to the two to learn their letters and have their coughs treated, and to pay for those services, so mostly everyone was satisfied by the state of things.

"Mmm," agreed Chiyoko, rubbing her forehead. "The aloe didn't work."

"She's still itching." Izumi bit her lip in concern. "But no rash or anything?"

"No, other than the scratches she's made herself." Chiyoko brushed brown hair back from her eyes with a small sigh. "Did you happen to—"

"Yeah." Izumi disappeared behind a pane of frosted glass, voice muffled. "I put some aside for her when I saw the stock dwindling, just in case you came back."

"Oh good." Chiyoko hadn't been looking forward to going home empty handed, even though she doubted this would work. None of the last four salves they had tried worked.

"You know," said Izumi, popping back up to the counter, sliding a small brown bag across it into Chiyoko's outstretched hand. "If this doesn't work, you probably need to bring her in to see Dad."

The mother in her balked at that, and she turned her green eyes down to the counter, lips thinning.

Izumi leaned forward. "I know you don't like it, but you want her to get better, right? She sounds miserable…"

Chiyoko's face twisted. "Yes, but, all the reporting," she kept her voice low. "They seem to be taking anyone for any reason they can think of these days. I don't want to draw attention to her."

Izumi tapped purple nails against her chin and blinked her intelligent dark eyes. "I think it'll be ok, I'll do the paperwork, alright? You just bring her in first thing Saturday morning if that salve doesn't work, hear me?"

The brunette teacher smiled sadly, not wanting to ask the favor but terrified to bring her child in without such assurances. "Promise?"

"Absolutely," nodded Izumi, patting a hand over her heart, a gesture conveying that trust given wouldn't be betrayed. "Tell your darling 'hi' and to read a medical text on tapeworms for me. I'll quiz her when I see her."

Chiyoko felt slightly queasy at the notion. "She doesn't need ideas. How much do I owe you?"

Izumi waved her away. "Not today, Chiyo-chan. Next please!" She called loudly over Chiyoko's shoulder, waving the woman away.

"I can pay, Izumi," she hissed through clenched teeth, searching for her wallet.

"Not today you won't, see you later!" Izumi grinned and adjusted her glasses, pushing Chiyoko's purse off the counter.

"Stop holding up the line," shouted a voice from the back, discontented murmurs echoing from others behind her.

"Yeah, get movin' slow bones," joked the healer.

Chiyoko grudgingly accepted the gift in lieu of causing a riot in the apothecary and slipped out the door.

* * *

"You're late," said Eri. Chiyoko's sister-in-law was lounging at the kitchen table and flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine, studying the newest trends from the capital.

Chiyoko's daughter primly sat across the table from Eri, giving her mother a steady, flat look, hands laced together and clasped tightly in the folds of her pretty summer yukata. Her dark curls brushed her shoulders and her green eyes flashed indignantly.

_Uh-oh._ Chiyoko fought down a laugh at how adorable her pouty child looked and mustered the appropriate grimace. _I don't need childhood development books to interpret that look_.

"Hi, Honey," she greeted her daughter, ignoring her sister-in-law for the moment. "Sorry I ran late, everyone's shopping right now and it was harder than I thought to get what I needed."

"I don't know why you try to explain yourself to her," said Eri dismissively. "She's just four."

Chiyoko bit back her sigh, and her explanation, because she'd given that to Eri a dozen times before and the woman _never _listened.

"_She_ is right here," quipped the four year old, looking grim.

Eri snapped her magazine shut and looked sharply at Chiyoko. "See that? That right there is what I'm talking about. You let her get away with everything! Doesn't matter if she's smart or not if she doesn't know when to hold her tongue."

Chiyoko could see the glittering eyes of her three nephews as they began to poke their heads around the kitchen door, sensing a possibly interesting confrontation but wise enough by now to know when to stay out of their mother's line of sight.

"I'm not raising her to hold her tongue, Eri—" Chiyoko started, but she decided to end that rant before it began. Best to try and extract her daughter as quickly as possible. "Why is she in 'time-out' anyway?" Because that was the only reason Katsumi was ever at the kitchen table when Chiyoko came to get her.

Katsumi was always at the kitchen table when Chiyoko came to get her.

"Because you won't let me spank her and she got smart with me again. I know how _you _raise your children." Eri flutter her hands in the air, flashy, cheap rings on her well-manicured hands glinting in the light. "But kids don't get smart with us in this household."

Chiyoko struggled to keep her temper, once again wishing there was someone, anyone, in this mostly backward town that she could trust to watch her child when she had to run errands. Leaving her child with Eri felt like exposing her daughter to harmful toxins, but she was too small to easily take with her when running all over town. Four year old legs just didn't carry someone very far very quickly, and Katsumi-chan's curiosity made any excursion last twice as long as it should under childless circumstances.

It was hard being a single working mom, and she didn't have a lot of family to support her. Not as hard as it was thirty years ago, when she probably would have been socially exiled for having a child out of wedlock and not even allowed to hold a job. At least that was one good thing that had come from living so close to a shinobi village, the acceptance of women in the working force—still, single mom-hood was hard. Especially being the single mom to an _almost disturbingly_ intelligent and perceptive child such as Katsumi.

Chiyoko doubted Eri appreciated just how truly trying it was to raise Katsumi. If Eri were actually parenting Katsumi, if the two lived together, then Katsumi would be in control of the household within a week. She'd have thoroughly manipulated Eri so that the woman only saw the perfect child she'd expected, and Katsumi would be—Katsumi would be—shopping for a new wardrobe and bullying her cousins into doing her chores and giving her their share of allowance, actually. Her schemes were still age appropriate in nature, but just give the kid some time to dream and she'd be in charge of the yakuza.

Anyway, Eri and Katsumi's current issues stemmed from the fact that each had absolutely no respect for the other, and knew that their time together would be limited. Thus, woman and girl strove to have the maximum impact on each other in their minimal interactions…but it would probably offend Eri if Chiyoko tried to explain that by responding to Katsumi's jabs the woman was essentially deigning to engage in a verbal war of attrition with a four year old.

Chiyoko rubbed her eyes, trying to ease her tension headache. She just wanted to grab her kid and go home, but Eri was going to drag this out and wouldn't be satisfied until she felt Chiyoko was enforcing some type of discipline appropriate to the infraction. And then she'd demand an apology, so Chiyoko cut to the chase. "What'd you say, Katsumi-chan?"

"Lots of stuff." Katsumi looked imperiously at her mother and gave a one-shouldered shrug as she soothed out the folds in her yukata. "But I think what made her mad was when I said that she had to have smart kids in order for 'smarting off in a household' to be possible."

Oh. Chiyoko blinked. It didn't help at all that Katsumi had quite excellent jabs, for a four year old. They'd be excellent for someone thrice her age, really.

Eri sniffed superiorly, before setting her glare on Chiyoko. "Your kid's a freak."

* * *

"Mommy—"Katsumi turned a wide green gaze on her mother as she was pulled back toward their home, her mother setting a hurried pace. "Mommy you _slapped_ Aunt Eri!"

"I know," grumbled Chiyoko, feeling overwhelmed with guilt at what a bad example she was setting for her only child. "And then Mommy said that she was very sorry and she'll never do it again. It should _never_ have happened. Mommy lost her temper and she's an adult and she knows better."

"But Mommy," Katsumi laughed, "Mommy it was awesome!"

"No!" Chiyoko felt stressed. The last thing she needed was for Katsumi to admire that behavior and start it herself. "Do as Mommy says, not as Mommy does." She paused when she realized how late it was and that they would need to stop and pick up dinner before heading home. "What are you hungry for, love?"

"Pocky!" Cheered Katsumi.

"That's not dinner food, Honey," chided Chiyoko, feeling the ache in her feet once more now that she was slowing down and the adrenaline was leaving.

"But Mommy," said Katsumi gravely. "I spent the afternoon with Aunt Eri. The deal is that when I stay with Aunt Eri, I get pocky after."

"Not today dear, I don't feel like either of us should be rewarded for good behavior tonight." She pulled her daughter toward a ramen stand. At least there would be vegetables.

"You didn't negotiate for good behavior Mommy." Katsumi looked at her mother speculatively. "That would cost more than pocky."

"No, Katsumi," Chiyoko put her foot down. Except, of course, this was Katsumi, so by the time she turned around from the counter with their orders, it was to see her daughter on a stool, addressing the rest of the attentive patrons.

"My parents argue about money, what do your parents argue about?" Announced the cheerful four year old to the restaurant.

"oh god," said Chiyoko in a small voice, feeling mortified.

* * *

"See, that's conditioning Mom," continued Katsumi, in between bites of noodles. "You break a deal and I behave badly as a result, and in the future you're less likely to break the deal."

"I think that's just called misbehaving," Chiyoko corrected wearily. Where was the chapter on this type of behavior in all those parenting books she'd read? "Where did you even learn about conditioning," Chiyoko muttered, exhausted and so glad to be home, finally.

"In the dictionary," piped Katsumi, stuffing her cheeks.

"Of course," sighed Chiyoko. "The dictionary."

"Yup." Katsumi licked her fingers, then popped to her feet and grabbed all the empty containers left over from the consumption of their take-home dinner. She took the garbage to the kitchen, reaching up on her tiptoes to push it all over the edge of the trashcan. Chiyoko sat on a cushion at the low dinner table. She watched her tiny daughter try to do all the same chores Eri assigned to her oldest son, even though she didn't yet have the reach and physical skill to accomplish them all. Sometimes it felt like Katsumi was in far too much of a hurry to grow up.

Chiyoko clapped her hands, bustling her daughter off for a bath and then getting her ready for bed.

"Are you still itching?" She asked her daughter as she placed the towel-wrapped child on her futon. She was already reaching for the newest salve before the girl answered affirmatively.

"Where does it itch?" Chiyoko unscrewed the lid of the small red jar, the scent of peppermint instantly emanating throughout the bedroom.

Katsumi scrunched up her small nose. "Everywhere."

"Everywhere, huh?" Chiyoko took a few minutes to examine her daughter's arms and legs. "I still don't see anything."

"It itches bad," was all Katsumi would say, sounding miserable.

"Is it getting worse or better?" Asked the older woman as she soothed the salve over her daughter's arms, rubbing it gently into the soft skin.

"No difference." Katsumi grumbled, happy once the routine was done and she could wiggle into her fresh nightgown and crawl under the covers. "Story first," demanded Katsumi, pointing at her bookshelf.

"I wouldn't dare skip it," agreed Chiyoko, walking over to her daughter's treasure trove, which the child kept in order by genre and author's last name. "What tonight? Should we finish the kitsune stories?"

"Yes," nodded the little girl seriously, damp brown curls clinging to her face. Katsumi pushed them impatiently away as her mother sat on the futon and curled around her, pulling the bookmark out and beginning to read. "There once was a white fox…"

All too soon, Katsumi's eyes closed and she couldn't open them again. Chiyoko finished the words of the last story and quietly slipped off the bed, putting the book back in its proper position on the shelf. Katsumi was a little obsessive about how she organized the bookshelf. If she woke up later and noticed the book on her nightstand, she'd get up and refuse to sleep until she'd confirmed that every book was in its proper spot.

Chiyoko walked back to the futon, tucking the covers in around the sleepy child and the girl's favorite stuffed animal. She leaned down and pressed her lips against the small forehead. "If you don't get better soon, we're probably going to have to take you to see a doctor," she murmured the words into her daughter's hair as she kissed the girl goodnight.

"Ok," said Katsumi with a yawn, curling up even tighter.

"Ok," agreed Chiyoko sadly, turning off the light and softly closing the sliding door as she left the room.

She walked back to the main living space, hand trailing along the wooden walls. The unexpected movement of shadows along the walls caused her to jump a bit, before she realized that the man waiting for her was her brother. He sat comfortably slouched on her cushions, sipping some tea he'd taken the liberty to make for himself.

"You scared me," she scolded, kneeling down on a cushion across the table.

"Sorry," her brother said low, smiling in apology. "I knew you'd be putting her to bed and I didn't want to wind her up again."

Chiyoko bit her lip. "Is this about me slapping Eri, 'cause I'm really sorry?"

Her brother waved her off. "If she asks yes, but not really. The boys told me what happened; they thought it was all pretty funny until Eri snapped. It sounded like it was a bit deserved."

Chiyoko let her shoulders relax. She was grateful she had a sibling who would always make sure his home was open to his niece, no matter how problematic that might be. "I'm so sorry, I know they just don't get along but if I could think of any other option—"

Hideki snorted. "Your kid would be causing trouble no matter who you left her with right now. But I actually came to tell you to be careful about leaving her with other people. You may want to start leaving her with Eri during the day instead of at that nursery. I know you're always working, but I've been hearing some stories…" He trailed off, looking uncomfortable, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. He sighed. "Do you even know if…?"

Chiyoko stared at the floor, studying the familiar stains on the faded tatami mats. "No." She refused to look at her brother, and instead bit nervously at her fingernails. "I just worry because she's so smart, that's all."

"From what I hear that's all they'll need," agreed her brother flatly. He also seemed to find the floor fascinating this evening.

Chiyoko hissed. "But she's still so little—"

"Don't matter," her brother cut her off. "Not right now, not with the way the politics are playing out. They're starting them all now, starting them young. Just in case. I think they're hoping by the time things are bad, they'll have a good crop ready to go."

His sister made a pained noise. "Don't talk about them like that."

"That's all they are." Her brother said softly, drawing his finger around the edge of the teacup. "That's all they were. Jun is too old now, but Shinji and Nori—"

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, before Chiyoko broke it by rising. "I'm going to get some sleep," she said warily, patting her brother's shoulder as she walked past him. "You should too, we both have work in the morning. You should finish your cup and you can let yourself out."

"Be careful," he said expressionlessly, watching her leave the room.

"We always were," she called back, voice equally emotionless. Careful wouldn't be enough to keep them safe, in the end. It wasn't before, it wouldn't be now.

* * *

"Are we going to see Aunt Izumi?" Katsumi bounced next to her mother, impatient to go outside and _see _things. She didn't get to walk across town often.

"Hold still, Honey." Chiyoko mumbled around a mouthful of pastel ribbons. She finished putting in the last bobby pin and took them out of her mouth. "You were the one who wanted the ribbons in _perfect_, I can't do that if you are bouncing off the walls."

Katsumi sighed but stood obediently still as her mother finished putting her hair up. "I like matching," she said, holding up a mirror and watching her mother's confident fingers finish fixing her hair.

"All done," said Chiyoko, holding her hand out to her daughter with a grin. She knew better than to let Katsumi outside without a firm grip on her. The girl was easily distracted and not very in tune with her surroundings. She would bound in front of carts after butterflies if let loose. It was a childish tendency at odds with her verbal capabilities, but reassuring in its childishness nonetheless.

There weren't many people outside this early on a weekend morning, which meant that there were fewer things to attract Katsumi's attention. But it also meant that the girl felt more confident about asking questions.

"What's that?" pointed Katsumi at every corner, quickly followed by "what does that mean?" or "what does one do in a _."

Chiyoko was caught off guard when the subject matter of the questions changed.

"Who are they?" Katsumi to some drably dressed men with sturdy vests and boots.

Chiyoko stilled nervously. She hadn't seen that uniform in a while. Her eyes flickered to their foreheads. _No hitai-ate…militia? Or purposefully unaffiliated?_

Chiyoko pulled her rudely pointing daughter forward, thankful that the men were distracted by their own conversation.

"Mommy?" Katsumi repeated, more softly as they turned onto the next street.

Chiyoko forced herself to don an unconcerned smile. "Soldiers, Honey. Those were soldiers."

Katsumi looked confused.

Chiyoko stopped when she realized they'd walked three blocks and her daughter hadn't said a peep. "What's wrong, Love?"

Katsumi's mirror-green eyes met hers. "Nothing." Katsumi looked down at her sandals. "I just thought I'd seen them before, it was familiar—"

"You've probably seen the men before, but not the uniform." She pushed them forward again. If the men were militia, Katsumi had possibly seen them around town before—it was a large village, but not so large that you never came across a familiar face.

It was also an entirely civilian village. They didn't get many shinobi out here, not even Kusagakure shinobi, not really. No one would be shocked to see one, but a Kusa-nin would generally just be stopping through on an escort mission. They were close enough to the Hidden Village (or so she'd been told) that ninja didn't stop here to spend the night, they travelled straight home. And she'd been told that the Hidden Village had even more to offer entertainment-wise than the capital, so why would any of them be out here? No good reason, that's for sure.

Especially considering most of the population of this village enjoyed the separation from the shinobi. They didn't want them here, the shinobi had their own village; this one belonged to civilians. She wanted it to stay that way. She'd chosen this lifestyle and she'd never looked back. Not once. Not once except in one, tiny, supposedly insignificant moment. She looked down at her daughter as they neared the apothecary, glad her child wasn't looking back to take note of her mother's desperate gaze.

Izumi met them at the back entrance of the store, ushering them in and giving each a warm hug.

"I drew you a picture of a tapeworm." Katsumi held up her present proudly. "Mom helped with the labeling, 'cause my handwriting is still wobbly."

_And isn't she so bitter about that?_ Chiyoko hid a smile behind her hand as Izumi admired the odd picture (which was admittedly quite well drawn, and accurate, for a four year old) and hung it on a fridge. A fridge that might actually house tapeworms, for all Chiyoko knew. She'd never bothered to ask what was kept in that fridge and now she'd probably be too terrified to ever open it.

"Good morning, Chiyo-chan," greeted Izumi's father, leaning heavily on his cane as Izumi directed Katsumi to sit on one of the two stools in the room. Chiyoko felt a bit silly that the old man still addressed her as if she were a child, but he and Izumi were the only two who did so anymore, so she supposed it was alright. (Her brother might call her that as well, if he was feeling sentimental).

Izumi was still technically her father's apprentice. It was a good arrangement, as due to her father's age, his own handwriting was shaky and either his wife or his daughter attended all his appointments to make notes of the meetings.

Generally, they just took notes for their own records and for the patient. But sometimes the government required certain information be reported for investigation. Chiyoko hadn't made a formal request, but she was hoping that if this exam revealed certain information, there would never be a record of any anomalies to be reported.

Izumi winked at Chiyoko over her clipboard.

Chiyoko tried to smile, but that was hard to do when one felt like one's breakfast was about to make an unwanted reappearance.

"So, Katsumi-chan, you're itching all over is that it?" He squinted at the child as he lowered himself onto the stool across from her. Katsumi nodded and he motioned her to hold out her arms. He rotated her wrists, examining her from head to toe and asking her to describe what she was experiencing.

Izumi was attentive, the scratch of her pen echoing in Chiyoko's mind as loudly as a clanging hammer.

The old physician brought out a tray of substances, applying some to her child's skin, testing to see if there were any allergies. Eventually, after receiving no reaction other than an occasional giggle when Katsumi exclaimed something was cold or ticklish, he sat back and scratched his head. "Well my dear, I suppose there is only one thing left to try then."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square of paper. "Hold out your hand," he instructed.

Katsumi responded obediently and he placed the frail paper into the small palm.

Instantly, the paper split in two and fell to the scuffed tiles beneath the table.

"What-," Katsumi looked startled, confused. "What happened to the paper?"

"Nothing bad, dear, nothing bad," the elderly man rushed to reassure her. "Its just—"

"No." Chiyoko didn't realize she'd spoken at first. Didn't realize she was the panicky, illogical sounding woman rambling incoherently. "No, I don't—Just don't—"

The physician blinked at her in surprise, and gestured to his daughter to leave.

"Come on darling." Izumi scooped Katsumi up and carried her from the room. "Let's go have that quiz on tapeworms. Get everything right and I've got pocky!"

Chiyoko almost walked after her daughter anyway, drawn by the worried look her child was giving her over Izumi's shoulder.

Izumi's father caught her wrist. "Sit down dear."

Chiyoko closed her eyes, realized there were tears in the corner of them and hurried to brush them away. She took a minute to compose herself and then took her daughter's prior seat.

Earnest, familiar dark eyes gazed sympathetically at her. "You expected this, didn't you?"

Chiyoko realized she was worrying her hands and clasped them tightly together. "Yes," she said, voice coming out raspy and dry. "But she was miserable, and I was worried—"

"She'll be fine, just fine," assured the physician. "It's nothing to worry about. Some children are more sensitive than others to what—to what's going on inside those young bodies of theirs. She probably doesn't even realize she's doing it, but she's producing a lot of chakra trying to fight the itching she's feeling." He ignored her flinch. "Which, well, that just means that her chakra coils are developing correctly, as they should, there's nothing wrong with her."

He stroked his beard. "It is surprising that she's able to make so much of it for that tiny body of hers at the moment. But I don't believe she realizes what chakra is, and she's not actually doing anything with it once she's formed it. It's just building up, intensifying and prolonging that 'itching feeling' that she's complaining about. She's built up so much of it at the moment that she didn't even have to consciously expel the stuff when she touched that paper. It will all settle down soon enough and she won't be bothered anymore. Completely natural, nothing wrong at all. But it will probably happen on and off as she grows, until she learns to consciously control chakra production."

Chiyoko sniffed, trying to focus on finding a part of the problem she could solve. "Is there any way to stop the itching?"

"She could burn off the excess—but that would require her learning chakra exercises, which means shinobi training," said the old man gently. "But really, she's not going to be harmed by this, just annoyed. Any buildup will dissipate in time, and eventually her body will learn to regulate itself a bit better, even without any formal training."

"Good," said Chiyoko, voice growing strong again. "I'll just keep her busy; get her to focus on other things."

"That's a good plan," he nodded along. "But Chiyo-chan, they're going to know. That much chakra—they're going to see, it's only a matter of time. They have-there are people who can sense chakra. If she's already capable of generating this much, this young—"

She held a hand to her face. Deep down, she knew. She knew. But it was still—it sent her reeling to have it confirmed anyway. To really _know _that this moment was here. She'd fought so hard, so long, all her life to stay away. Going back down that road only led to sorrow, _she knew._

"What am I supposed to do?" Her voice felt so small, so fragile. She could hear her daughter's laughter from the other room, knew the smile that would be accompanying it. But she couldn't draw enough energy to open her eyes at the moment and go into the other room, to acknowledge the change, to see the sympathy (_empathy_) in the eyes of the father of her closest friend.

"Only you have all the facts right now dear," he murmured. "They're going to come for her, but you decide how they find her. _Who_ finds her."

He patted her knee and rose. "Come now." He held out his arm when she finally looked up. "Escort an old man to that lovely girl of yours, before my daughter fills her up with so much chocolate that you can't get her to sleep for twenty four hours."

* * *

"Mommy?"

It was late in the afternoon and Katsumi was smearing finger-paints across one of the canvasses Chiyoko had bought for her. "What happened with the doctor? Did he figure out why I'm itching?"

Chiyoko finished marking the spelling quiz in her lap, red ink bleeding through the pages onto the ones below it. She couldn't bring herself to worry about it too much this afternoon. "It's just growing pains. They'll go away in a few weeks." She took a sip of tea.

"Growing pains?" Katsumi looked back at her in disbelief. "I've been itching for weeks, _growing pains_?"

"Mmmmhhhmmm," hummed Chiyoko affirmatively. Because that was absolutely all she was willing to say on that matter.

XXX

Chiyoko watched her daughter sleep that night.

It was probably creepy, but she was going to have to make a decision soon. Whatever she chose might mean that nights like this, where her daughter slept peacefully in her own bed, were numbered.

The issue was, of course, that Chiyoko really did know _who_ was the source of the problem, despite what she'd told her brother. Unfortunately, as she weighed her options, he was also probably the best solution.

She knew what happened to civilian children 'selected' for shinobi training during war time. She'd lost three of her four older brothers that way.

Crops.

Cannon Fodder.

Pawns.

They had no advocates, no proper military sponsors like the civilians who were recruited by Kusagakure during peacetime received. They were completely exposed to one of the most brutal careers with the highest mortality rate. They were released onto the battlefield undertrained, undersupervised, unprotected.

They were slaughtered.

Chiyoko took a shuddering breath and leaned back against her daughter's bookshelf.

Not Katsumi.

Not her brilliant little girl.

Chiyoko's greatest asset had always been her mind and now it was time to put it to good use. If her daughter was going to survive the next few years, she was going to need options. She was going to need an advocate. Someone already in and respected by the system that Chiyoko had worked so hard to keep her daughter hidden from.

Which meant she was going to have to get in touch with her daughter's father.

She didn't have enough curse words in her vocabulary to adequately express her displeasure with this concept.

Fortunately, while she hadn't seen him in over four years (and had been happy enough with the thought of never seeing him again) she did have an idea of how to get in touch with him.

* * *

She stayed late at Eri's after the next work day, much to the displeasure of both her sister-in-law and daughter. Making dinner on her own for the three boys and three women went a long way to soothing Eri's hurt feelings. Doing all the dishes and getting the boys into bed at a decent hour soothed the rest.

Eri was asleep in her own room and Katsumi was tucked in with her youngest cousin by the time Hideki got home.

He shook his mud-covered boots off outside, wandering into the kitchen with bare feet and bleary eyes and an aching, empty stomach.

She met him with his favorite dish.

"What?" He asked in surprise—she wasn't sure if it was at her presence or the food.

She waited until he'd sat down at the table and eaten a few bites. "I need you to write a letter."

He looked at her blankly, before wiping some curry from the corner of his mouth.

"I need you to write a letter to _him_," she repeated. "Because of Katsumi. I mean—" she paused, choked up. "Don't _tell him_ about Katsumi, I'll do that. But I've got to see him; I have to talk to him about her."

Her brother finished his meal. Man of few words, he was. He wiped his mouth a final time and considered his youngest, and only living, sibling. "Because he's the only person you think of who might help," he asked, eyeing her carefully, looking for clues. "Or because he has a personal obligation to assist her?"

"Both," she said, cheeks pink. She felt more than a little embarrassed.

He stared at the table.

Chiyoko wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Goddammit." He finally said. "Go—I told you to stay away from him, _I told you!"_

"You did," agreed Chiyoko, tracing the grooves in the wooden tabletop that were probably made by Eri's nails.

He flung his napkin on the table and marched off in disgust, but he came back with a pen and paper.

Chiyoko let out a slow relieved breath, leaning over to rest her head on her arms as the soft scratching of pen and paper echoed in her ears.

* * *

Hideki knocked on her door a week and a half later.

Chiyoko slid it open cautiously, there were more militia in town every day now, and there were shinobi beginning to appear as well. She kept Katsumi inside and was beginning to think that if war ever happened, she couldn't be more terrified than she was when she took her daughter to and from the nursery every day. It was only a matter of time before her daughter attracted attention from some type of sensor-nin.

She rubbed at the dark circles around her eyes and backed into the entryway when she realized it was her brother. He stepped inside, but didn't change his shoes.

She was having dreams where she tucked Katsumi in at night, and her daughter was gone from the bed in the morning. Instead of a small body in the nest of blankets there would only be a note from Kusagakure. She'd wake struggling to breathe, tangled up in her sheets and unable to relax. She'd go slip into bed with her daughter for the rest of the night, knowing that if they really wanted to take her, not even holding her child in her arms would keep her safe.

"He's here," Her brother looked at her solemnly. "I'm supposed to meet him at the Iron Horse in thirty minutes."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's a—"

He snorted. "I _warned _you, you're the one who—"

"Enough," she slapped his shoulder gently. "This is why I never told you. I knew you'd never leave off, and it was only _one_ time. It was the _only_ time, _ever_," she added darkly, kicking some slippers at her brother. He took the hint and bent down to change his shoes.

"Well," he muttered. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

"On that we can both agree," she said, pinning her hair up quickly and checking her reflection in a mirror she's hung on the wall.

"How do you want to handle this?" Hideki paused, holding a boot. "I could go get him and bring him here."

"No." She shook her head. "I still haven't decided if—" She stopped, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"'s fine." Her brother straightened, brushed some dirt from his sleeves. "I'll watch her 'till you get back."

She grabbed her purse, pausing to kiss her brother on the cheek. "Thanks." She turned to yell in the direction of her daughter's room. "Katsumi-chan, I have to go run an errand. Your Uncle is going to watch you for a few minutes."

Katsumi poked her head around out of the hallway, from where she'd most likely been eavesdropping on the conversation.

Her brother snorted, folding his arms. "Read me a book?" Which was about as friendly an overture as he ever made to any child.

Katsumi considered him, head tilted to the side in thought. "That is acceptable." She disappeared to get a book and her brother slumped down onto a cushion, poking at the remnants of their dinner.

They'd be fine.

* * *

She heard him, before she saw him.

He had one of the loudest laughs of any man alive, more like a bellow really.

When she entered the—bar, which was a generous description for the establishment, she didn't need to be directed toward his booth. She turned the corner and there he was, not even trying to be inconspicuous or go incognito or any of those ninja-y things that ninja did when they didn't want to be noticed. Which they usually didn't, because they were ninja.

She supposed that didn't apply to super ninja or something.

She was very nervous. She could feel her palms sweating and she tried to wipe them on her dress.

She was going to vomit.

No she wasn't.

Yes she was.

No.

She could do this. She could do this for Katsumi.

She swallowed.

Although, standing against the wall and watching two scantily clad women drape themselves over him wasn't reassuring her at all that she'd made the correct choice for her daughter's future.

_Deep breath, Chiyoko_. She started walking toward him.

He wasn't that handsome. Or charming, even, not really. She had no feelings for him.

She'd been young, and drunk, and curious.

And he'd been tipsy, and responsive, and _present_.

And he knew her favorite literary authors, and could hold a decent conversation about them. Which was apparently novel enough to get her into bed after three glasses of whatever it was she'd ordered that night. She would've never guessed she'd be that easy; it was the very good reason underlying her decision to never have more than one glass of alcohol on any occasion.

And he'd certainly had no qualms about any of his behaviors, neither that night nor the morning after.

As for her…well, she'd really been too drunk to remember much of it. But she remembered waking up, and she remembered realizing just who she'd slept with and all the implications that had. She kept remembering it every day for the past four years, every moment since she spent a week straight unable to keep down oatmeal and vomiting into a wastebasket she still couldn't look at without feeling nauseas.

She didn't expect him to remember her (it wasn't like he'd been carting around permanent evidence of that night for the past four and a half years), so it wasn't too surprising when she finally reached him and was completely ignored.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Jiraiya-sama."

His gaze flickered to her briefly, and she could see him dismissing her just as quickly.

Admittedly, she wasn't dressed to compete with his current entertainment. Not that she wasn't pretty, she was…er, she just wasn't on display like, well _that_, at the moment. And wasn't planning to be. This was strictly a no alcohol night.

"Jiraiya-sama," she repeated. "I need to talk with you."

"Just a moment, Gorgeous," he said in a low voice to the giggling girl on his lap as he pushed her back a few inches.

"Yes?" He grinned up at her.

She gripped her purse tightly, resisting the impulse to whack him. "I'm the one you're supposed to meet tonight, we need to talk."

He furrowed his brow. "No, I'm waiting for—"

"Hideki-kun," she finished his sentence. "He wrote to you for me. I'm the one who needs to talk to you."

He gave a dramatic, forlorn sigh and the women slipped away from him, freeing up the seats in his booth. "Sorry girls," he said mournfully. "Duty calls, but come back and check on me, alright?"

One of the girls actually giggled as he pinched her ass when she left, and Chiyoko wanted to slap them both. She felt ridiculously out of place, a schoolteacher in a—this was all the stupid PTA would be talking about next week, she just knew it. She slipped into the recently vacated seat and faced the man she'd asked her brother to summon.

"So," the shinobi drawled, taking a sip of his drink. "Ms.-?"

"Chiyoko. Kinoshita Chiyoko," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and not understanding why she suddenly wanted to burst into tears.

Jiraiya seemed to feel equally uncomfortable with her temperament.

"Can I get you a drink—"

"NO!" She yelled, probably a bit louder than socially acceptable, judging by the mildly alarmed look on the man's face.

"That's fine!" He held up his hands disarmingly. "That's fine, you don't have to drink!"

"Ok," she said in a small voice, trying to get herself back under control. Maybe the better idea would be to get him talking. She wasn't sure, she just, she needed—"can you tell me about Konoha's shinobi school?" She blurted out.

He furrowed his brow. "The Academy?"

"If that's what it's called." She flexed her fingers nervously. "The ninja academy in Konoha, what is it like—for its' students, for civilians who enter to train there?"

He looked a bit worried. "They don't take adult-"

"That's not—" she shook her head. "Just, is it safe? Are the students happy?"

Jiraiya set his drink down, looking perturbed. "What's this about Kinoshita-san?"

"Can't you just—"_answer me_, she felt so aggravated. So upset. This was the man she was thinking about giving her child to? How was this going to be any better than Kusagakure shinobi taking her child?

"I have a team." Jiraiya said suddenly, saying they words as if they were a peace offering, as if he sensed her desperation and frustration. "They're like my family, my sisters and brothers. My student is like my son. Konoha ninja are a family, they take care of their own."

She felt herself relax a bit. "And is each one important? Is each life important?" This was probably such a naïve question, but she felt like she had to ask it. Felt like she had to try to find someone who would reassure her that her child would be looked after, wasn't just going to be lost in a crowd of children, sacrificed to the vicious, insatiable greed of an older generation.

"Yes," said Jiraiya gravely. "In Konoha, we see the children as our future. Each one is important. If we don't take care of them, we wouldn't have a village in a few years now, would we?"

Ok. That was good. That was helpful. Better. No Kusa-nin would say that, not right now. Not with the grim future for which they were preparing.

"Ok." She felt dazed, numb.

_Was she really going to do this? _

She licked her lips.

_She was. _

_If she didn't—She'd regret it in the morning. He'd leave, without the girl, without—_

"You said your student was like your son," she looked up suddenly, focusing on him. He was staring straight back at her, dark eyes thoughtful, concerned. "Would you, if someone threw him into a situation he wasn't trained for, which he probably wouldn't survive, would you intervene?"

Jiraiya shrugged casually, grinning. "There's not much he couldn't take on nowadays. He's full grown and pretty damn good. But if I knew that—he was likely to get his fool ass killed," he sobered. "Yeah, I'd jump in and save the idiot."

Well, then. She probably couldn't get better than that. She certainly wasn't going to get that here in Kusagakure.

She rose, brushing invisible crumbs off her skirt.

"Oh, hey," blinked Jiraiya in surprise. "That's it? Where are you going?"

"We're going on a walk," she said numbly, gesturing for him to get up. "Come with me please."

Bemused, Jiraiya rose to his feet and followed her.

"You alright?" He asked idly, as they left the noise of the red light district and set out on a main road toward the residential area.

"I'm fine, why?" She looked over at him as they walked.

"Just wondering why you're acting like you're making a death march, that's all."

She scowled and quickened her pace.

He laughed at her. "Your ass looks really familiar from back here, are you sure we haven't met before?"

Her spine straightened and she walked faster.

When she got to the house, she was a good bit ahead of Jiraiya. She could hear him following her, humming some strange tune. She stomped up her porch and slid open the door, not too surprised to find her brother passed out on the floor, snoring loudly.

She was surprised to find Katsumi at the table, dressed in a nightgown but happily entertaining herself with a coloring book and sipping at chocolate milk.

"Oh, Honey!" Her shoulders slumped as she addressed her child. "You know you're not supposed to have chocolate milk this late!" She was never going to get her to bed now.

Katsumi blinked up at her innocently and opened her mouth to respond. When she snapped it shut in shock, green eyes wide, Chiyoko knew Jiraiya had entered the house behind her.

That didn't explain why the shock quickly morphed into a look of complete betrayal and anger.

"Katsumi-chan?" Chiyoko asked her daughter, ignoring her guest out of concern for her daughter.

"Oh, hey kid." Jiraiya greeted the girl with a grunt and a wave.

Katsumi hopped off her chair and put her hands on her hips, looking at the two up and down from head to toe, face scrunched up in a strange expression, as if she was on the verge of tears.

"I don't—" Jiraiya looked frantically at the befuddled Chiyoko. "What'd I do?"

Chiyoko took a step toward her daughter, but the girl backed away.

"You could have told me," said the tiny girl, voice quaking in anger. "That I misfiled the geography book in the fiction section!" She hissed and spun on her heel, stalking off to her room and slamming the door shut so hard the glass panes rattled.

"Wow," Jiraiya said slowly, blinking and scratching his cheek as Hideki continued to snore away on the floor, oblivious to the entire situation.

"Dramatic little thing isn't she?" Jiraiya said with a whistle.

Chiyoko's head turned sharply toward the man as she scowled. "Yes," she agreed. "And now I know exactly who she gets it from!"

"Oh?" Jiraiya asked, still distracted by the loud thuds coming from the small child's room.

It took him a minute to register the look that he was getting from the pretty petite brunette woman in the room with him. He rewound his mind through the past half hour of conversation and froze.

"Oh, no." He said, black eyes wide, head shaking back and forth.

"We need to talk," sighed Chiyoko, gesturing politely to an empty cushion next to her snoring brother.

* * *

Rev. 4/19/16


	2. Chapter 2

Chiyoko's mother had instilled in her daughter the importance of treating all houseguests with excellent manners, with an emphasis on how to adjust her hospitality to the circumstances. Her mother had been an excellent hostess.

However, at no time had her mother instructed her on the etiquette for informing a foreign ninja with whom your country was about to be at war that he was the father of your four year old temper-tantrum throwing child.

She must have tuned out for that particular lecture. Maybe it was wedged in between that one talk about how to scrape pine sap off of glass surfaces that eventually transformed into yet another rant about how important it was for Chiyoko to get married before she was twenty two. Her attention had always faded away about fifteen minutes into that one.

Anyway, she was running out of ideas for how to handle this situation. Jiraiya-san refused to sit, and had been standing awkwardly in the living space for the past five minutes, looking wide-eyed in the direction of her child's room. It was as if he'd been told that the room held an explosive capable of destroying the world and he had ten minutes to defuse it or the destruction of modern civilization would be laid at his feet.

Chiyoko sighed and knelt at the table, finishing her daughter's chocolate milk and waiting for Jiraiya to snap back to his senses. If he took much longer, she was going to go tend to her daughter and see if he'd be ready to talk in the morning.

Jiraiya emitted a muffled squeak and she looked up from putting her daughter's coloring sticks back in the box, in the correct order, of course. If they weren't arranged in the order of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and _then _violet, there would inevitably be a meltdown the next time the box was opened. And no, she had no idea why that was deemed the 'correct' color scheme or why it was so important. It was just one of the many little eccentricities that made Katsumi, well, Katsumi.

"That's not possible," is what Jiraiya chose to say first, voice high and strained.

She put the black color stick in the box and closed it. "Choose better words," she said, using the tone of voice she reserved for her students when they said something that would get them in trouble. Everyone deserved a chance to correct a mis-statement.

Jiraiya wisely issued an amendment. "It's entirely possible," Jiraiya conceded.

Chiyoko's brother emitted a loud snore form where he was passed out on the floor.

"It's just," the shinobi seemed to be scrambling for his thought. "It's not very probable."

Chiyoko took the empty chocolate milk glass over to the sink. "I don't know what type of sex education they provide to ninja in Konoha." She purposefully avoiding gazing at the shinobi as she washed the glass. Men were always such babies when it actually came around to discussing the mechanics of sex. They'd catcall and make all the innuendos in the world, but when it came to talking about reproductive consequences—she sniffed. "My mother made it very clear that it only takes once, Jiraiya-sama." She flicked soap suds off her hands and dried her hands with a ratty dish towel, before turning to face her guest, who, as predicted, was looking flustered.

"I've only ever slept with one man, Jiraiya-sama." She worked to keep all the expression from her voice. "I know exactly who fathered my only child." Her fingers clenched at her dress nervously and she braced herself for the difficult part of the discussion. "Which is why I asked you here."

Jiraiya's eyes widened in alarm and he opened his mouth to speak—

Only for a louder than usual crash from her daughter's room to startle both of them. Suspicious silence followed the disturbance. Chiyoko tensed, thinking the unnatural quiet might be her daughter inhaling before a pained wail—but no cry came.

"I—" started Jiraiya.

"Hold that thought, please." She held up a finger and swept from the room. "Excuse me."

Chiyoko padded down the hallway and gently slid the door open to her daughter's bedroom. She took in the mess that greeted her when the creaky door inched open with unruffled poise.

Her daughter had pulled the majority of her rather large (considering her age) book collection off the shelves and strewn them about the room in disorderly piles. Chiyoko detected no apparent rhyme or reason to their division.

The clear distress on her daughter's face kept Chiyoko from scolding her child. Her daughter _hated_ disorder and loved her books, she knew better than to mistreat them and something must have shaken the girl badly for her to behave this way.

Katsumi sat in the middle of the room, pouring through the geography book she'd mentioned earlier with a mad frenzy.

Chiyoko knelt down in front of her daughter. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Katsumi shook her head, brown curls bouncing back and forth, framing her pale face. She gazed intently at the large map of the shinobi world, looking at it as if seeing it for the first time, gripping it so tightly the pages were tearing. Chiyoko would give a month's salary to know what was going on in her daughter's head. Katsumi had picked the book out from the local book store months ago, seeming to find it funny for some reason. She'd stuck it on the shelf and Chiyoko hadn't seen her with it since, but now the girl was looking at it as if it were her most important possession.

Chiyoko leaned forward and slowly unclenched her daughter's fingers from the book. Once Chiyoko had her daughter's hands, she pulled the tense girl into her lap and pushed the book away, closing it.

"Katsumi-chan?" She asked the child again, curling around the smaller body and combing her fingers through her daughter's thick hair in a soothing manner.

Katsumi shook her head and buried her face against her mother's shoulder. She mumbled something, but it was muffled against the fabric of the older woman's outfit.

Chiyoko focused on rocking her four year old for a few minutes, waiting for the trembling limbs to relax and for the little girl's breathing to even out. When it did, she pulled back and tilted her daughter's face up toward her, brushing the tips of her fingers against her daughter's soft cheeks. "What's wrong, Love?"

Katsumi's green eyes began to tear up again. "Everything," said the four year old dramatically, face falling into misery.

Chiyoko tsked and readjusted her grip on the girl, focusing on keeping her voice calm and steady. "Everything encompasses a lot sweetheart. Are you in your home?"

"Yes," said Katsumi softly.

"With your books? With me? Are we safe?" She continued asking questions as she picked up her child and navigated her way through the recently created obstacle course and over to the futon that she assumed Hideki had laid out. Katsumi nodded affirmatively against her shoulder in response to her mother's queries and sniffled sadly as she was set down on top of the covers.

Chiyoko sat next to her, rubbing her back. "So now that we've narrowed the list, what's really wrong?"

Katsumi shook her head negatively, green eyes dull.

Chiyoko found the girl's oversized stuffed bunny and turned it over to her daughter's outstretched arms. "You made quite a mess for nothing being wrong."

Katsumi perked up a bit, enough to eye the sad state of her library distastefully. "I'll fix it tomorrow."

Chiyoko paused, her daughter's dismissal of the disorganized room setting off warning bells in her head. "Honey?" She frowned and pressed a hand against the girl's forehead, checking for fever.

Katsumi looked forlornly up at her mother. "Ninja will still be real in the morning, won't they?"

Chiyoko dropped her hand. Four years and she'd worked hard to keep every trace of shinobi from her household. She'd combed through every book, screened every movie, changed the subject of every conversation—after tonight, there'd be no more censoring the existence of ninja in the hopes that ignoring them would best protect her child's future. She gave her daughter a weak smile and proceeded to tuck her into bed. "Yes they will."

"I'm going to have to go to ninja school, aren't I?" Katsumi sounded morose.

"What do you know about ninja school?" Chiyoko fluffed her daughter's pillows and tried not to sound too interested in the answer.

"…I read about in the dictionary," Katsumi muttered, picking absently at the fur on her rabbit.

Chiyoko bit back a groan. She was never going to be forgiven for that. Instead of indulging in the rant that was playing in her head, which would have no positive effect on her daughter at all, she gave a resigned sigh. "I'll send your uncle in to read you your bedtime story, ok?" She supposed she should be grateful her daughter wasn't pestering her with questions about their other guest. She leaned down to kiss her daughter on her forehead. "Love you, Honey."

She pulled back, confused when Katsumi didn't respond.

"Mom." Kastumi blinked earnestly up at her. "Kermit the frog's Grandpa is in my doorway."

Chiyoko twisted sharply where she sat, glaring at the door. Sure enough, a strange old frog was sitting in quiet observation. He considered the two females with an intelligent gaze, stroking his beard. "Well I'll be damned," he eventually said, before turning and hopping back down the hall.

Chiyoko blinked at the empty door frame.

"Grandpa Kermit said a bad word." Her daughter sounded impressed.

Chiyoko didn't have an explanation for this madness. "Mommy will have to talk with him about that." Her stress level had been inching steadily higher throughout the night, and cursing, bearded frogs— she was drawing the line. She had no idea who Kermit the frog was (maybe a cartoon her daughter watched?), but she would be having words with their guest about inviting individuals who used foul language in front of impressionable children.

She finished saying goodnight to her daughter, stubbed her toe on a book as she tried to leave, swallowed a curse of her own, and prowled back into the main living space.

Which was suspiciously lacking in elderly talking amphibians. Her brother, however, was awake and conversing with Jiraiya in low tones, giving his typical one word, grunt-ish answers that seemed to be irritating the white-haired shinobi.

"Where's the frog?" She snapped out, setting her hands on her hips.

Jiraiya raised his eyebrows, sounding scandalized. "He's not a frog! He's Elder Toad!"

"Where is he?" Demanded Chiyoko.

"He went home," drawled Jiraiya, expression closing off and implying that the whereabouts of talking frog-san weren't any of her business.

Chiyoko felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and she coiled internally in anger. "Hideki-kun, Katsumi-chan needs a bedtime story."

Hideki blinked himself awake a bit more, but slumped in submission before working up a rebuttal. He shrugged his shoulders apologetically when Jiraiya shot him a betrayed look as he departed.

Chiyoko waited until her brother left the room before she crossed her arms and did her best to sound confident as she addressed a man who probably knew more ways to kill her than she knew meals to prepare for dinner.

"Jiraiya-sama," she began, "You are a guest in my home. I do the best I can to ensure the safety of my daughter, and part of that responsibility is screening visitors and guests and denying or limiting access to anyone who might wish her harm or negatively affect her. I can't do that if you are bringing in—" she didn't know how to describe what had just happened so she decided to be as tactful as possible. "Visitors who I don't know about. When you do that without my permission, you are completely undermining my authority as Katsumi's mother and you are putting my child's safety at risk."

"I wouldn't-" Jiraiya wilted a bit. "I wouldn't hurt her."

"I'd like to think you wouldn't," said Chiyoko, throat dry. "But I don't know you very well, Jiraiya-sama. I really don't know you at all. You just discovered you are a father today, you've had no time to think about the ramifications of that realization, and we have not determined yet what the extent of your involvement will be, if any, with my daughter."

She gripped her arms tightly, feeling cold as Jiraiya gazed back at her with a blank face. "I know you have the power to go over my head, to take her completely out of my life. But while you are in my house, please indulge me and treat me with the respect that I deserve as an independent person and the head of my household. And, if not that, at least humor me by honoring the fact that I've taken excellent care of your offspring for the past four years." She wasn't sure how well she was hiding the fact that she was shaking with emotional vulnerability. Probably not well, considering that when Jiraiya began to respond, he spoke as if he thought one harsh word might bowl her over.

"I respect you." He frowned, as if the next words were costing him something of excessive value, "I'm sorry."

At least he sounded sincere.

Jiraiya groaned and his shoulders sagged forward. "I don't often apologize and mean it, and I do so even less to civilians." He ran a hand through his long white hair in irritation. "You've thrown me off guard tonight and I haven't exactly responded well."

Chiyoko pushed down her anger to accept the apology and forced herself to cross the floor, taking a seat on one of the abandoned cushions. "You haven't run away screaming yet," she offered, trying to lighten the mood.

"It crossed my mind," he agreed wryly. "I shouldn't have called Fukasaku-sama without asking you first. He was just the easiest—" Jiraiya's eyes widened in sudden alarm, and he hastily tried to explain himself, holding out his arms as if trying to prevent Chiyoko from getting angry. "Not that I don't believe you, but if I hadn't checked my teammates would've had my ass! Elder toad was just the easiest way to confirm things, and I didn't think it would matter that much. Obviously, I'm a guest and it was rude—"

"Jiraiya-sama," Chiyoko interrupted wearily, fighting the urge to rub her temples. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh," Jiraiya blinked, shoulders sinking. He cleared his throat and further explained himself. "Well, Fukasaku-sama is a sage, and one thing he can do is sense a person's chakra."

Chiyoko stiffened; she was quickly coming to hate that word.

Jiraiya noted her discomfort, dark eyes cataloguing her reactions, but he continued when she didn't lodge a verbal objection. "Every person has a unique chakra signature; some people are natural sensors and can sense these unique signatures. Fukasaku-sama is able to do so; I'm not—well, not in this state. I could do it, but it would require me to use some techniques you'd probably me rather not use in your house. It would also, most likely, draw unwanted attention."

"So you," Chiyoko tried to follow his train of thought. "You sent him to check if Katsumi-chan had chakra?"

"Not exactly," muttered Jiraiya, "Everyone has a unique chakra signature, but part of that signature is passed from parent to child, so any child of mine would have a signature somewhat similar to mine."

"So you sent him to confirm that Katsumi was your child," Chiyoko said slowly.

Jiraiya hummed his agreement.

The woman nodded jerkily. "I understand." She straightened. "It would be silly of me not to try and expect you to confirm paternity in some way. I didn't know it would be so easy, thank you for taking that into consideration." She bowed her head in acknowledgment and gratitude.

Jiraiya looked uncomfortable. "I should have explained beforehand. Anyway," he fidgeted. "Fukasaku-sama confirmed she was my tadpo—er, kid. And I just," Jiraiya looked to be at a loss for words, eyes searching the sparsely decorated living space as if hoping an answer would jump out from under the frayed tatami mats. "I don't really know what to do about that."

Chiyoko kept her head down, eyes locked on her clasped hands, not able to voice the words which might lead to her daughter's permanent removal from Grass Country. Even if that looked to be the best option for Katsumi's future.

"Will you be taking her with you?" Hideki's gruff voice carried through the quiet room.

Chiyoko jerked up, eyes teary, gazing at her brother as he leaned against frame of the hallway entrance.

"Kid's asleep," was all he said. He avoided looking at her eyes.

Jiraiya looked stricken. "I mean—it's not that I don't want anything to do with her ever, but I don't know what to do with a kid." He looked between the two siblings, distress on his face. "Isn't she happy here?"

"It's not that she's not happy," Hideki explained. "It's that Kusagakure's preparing for war, and the country is bracing itself for becoming a battlefield. Kusa's drafting kids left and right. They're taking any kid who shows so much as a hint of promise, taking 'em up to the hidden village for training."

Jiraiya leaned forward. "So you're worried the Kusa-nin are going to draft her into their military? Send her to their Academy?"

Hideki didn't verbally respond, hazel eyes drifting to his sister.

Jiraiya's gaze followed Hideki's and landed on the anxious young mother.

Chiyoko focused on her hands, on getting each word out, one at a time. "She's so smart. She's_ too_ smart. And she's been—not on purpose, at least the doctor doesn't think so. She's been producing chakra, but she doesn't know what to do with it. It's just building up and irritating her. The doctor says it will dissipate eventually, if not used. But he also said— they'll notice. The shinobi will notice, sooner rather than later." She hiccupped. "And they'll take her. They'll take her away." Her voice was shaking by the end, and her eyes were wet, but she was proud she hadn't completely broken down into sobbing. If she kept leaning forward like this, hopefully the hair covering her eyes would keep the men from seeing how distraught she was.

"What a mess," grumbled the shinobi, leaning back. "I know what your objections to Kusagakure's military are."

And he did. Probably better than most, considering he'd been fighting in the same war in which her brothers were killed. Kusa and Konoha had been allied at the time, and still were supposedly. Somehow her brothers had wound up on the front-lines, fighting a battle in which they were hopelessly outclassed. They were where they had no business to be, but that was where all Kusa-nin civilian born shinobi wound up, on the frontlines, in over their heads, and dead. Kusa just didn't have the resources that Konoha did to invest in proper training and the necessary medical care to keep ninja up and running for a long time. Not when compared to the five great shinobi nations, at least.

Hideki had had been too old at the time the Second War broke out to draft into shinobi work, although he was certainly no older than Jiraiya. She supposed Jiraiya had started his own training young, voluntarily. The two had met in a bar, and Jiraiya had coaxed enough alcohol in the other man to get him to let loose about his frustration with his brothers' deaths and Kusa politics. Since then, Jiraiya'd wandered back every few years. Chiyoko didn't usually see him; her brother would mention the man's visit in an off-hand manner after the fact. She never pressed, was never even curious. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time the last time he was in town, and they'd accidentally wound up in bed together. She doubted Jiraiya had even realized she was Hideki's sister at the time. She hadn't informed him of their relationship.

"That definitely puts a different spin on things, doesn't it?" Jiraiya spoke rhetorically, eyes lost in thought.

"So, you'll be taking her then?" Chiyoko asked. Her mouth felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton.

"Well," Jiraiya murmured. "I can't really leave her here, can I? I mean, technically it's a foreign military, even though we're allied. Alliances fall apart. If they found out she was my kid…if I ever had to face her in battle—and you're right, they won't leave her alone." Jiraiya seemed to be thinking out loud, trying to work through the possibilities. "She could be used against me, against Konoha—better to prevent that possibility now, when it's easiest, than try to find a way to resolve it later once things become more complicated." He rubbed at his face. "What a mess."

"So," repeated Chiyoko, dully. "You're taking her."

"Looks that way," mumbled Jiraiya, sounding a bit cross. "But I need—I should get back, I'll need to soothe some feathers, get some paperwork taken care of so that everything will be ready when she gets there. Get passes and permits and such."

_Good_. She'd have a week or so then to prepare Katsumi. Tomorrow morning wouldn't be goodbye forever.

"The longer we wait, the more likely it is she'll get drafted, if what you're saying is true about Kusa's strategy for 'recruiting.' And it'll be a pain in the ass to get her out if they draft her before we get her to Konoha as a civilian. I don't have any authority or sway over Kusa shinobi, and it'll raise questions if Konoha requests the transfer of an academy student. They'll dig their feet in and demand concessions, and I have some influence, but I don't know how far I could press the Council to go to get her." Jiraiya tapped his chin thoughtfully. "In short, best to get out as soon as possible."

Chiyoko nodded, focused on keeping her voice even. "A week then?"

Jiraiya blinked, surprised. "You think you'll both be ready to go then?"

Chiyoko started. "What?"

Jiraiya was perplexed by her confusion. "You and the kid, will you be ready to move to Konoha then? I mean, you're a teacher, right? Is that enough time to quit your job and get ready to move?"

"I'm—" Chiyoko felt a strange flutter of something in her chest. "I'm coming too?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't you?" Jiraiya looked a bit green. "I can't take her by myself! I wouldn't know the first thing to do with her! I'd screw her up within three hours!"

"I can come?" Chiyoko needed to be sure, needed to hear direct confirmation. She ignored how desperate her voice sounded.

"Why wouldn't you?" Jiraiya repeated, sounding genuinely baffled.

"The hidden village here in Kusa doesn't let civilians in, any civilians." Hideki spoke up, trying to figure out what Jiraiya was offering.

"No civilians?" The shinobi huffed, crossed his arms. "That's ridiculous. Who runs the restaurants? Who manages trade and businesses? Who takes care of their kids?"

Hideki shrugged. "I don't know. They run it all themselves as far as I know. When they take the kids for training, I meant they take them. The kids write letters home when they can, sometimes they get leave to come home, but most parents never see 'em again."

Jiraiya raised his eyebrows and looked on the verge of continuing his barrage of questions, before he had an epiphany and his head snapped back to Chiyoko. "You thought I was going to take her and never come back, didn't you? Is that why you've been all," he gestured vaguely with his hands. "Weepy? You thought I would take her and you'd never see her again?"

Chiyoko couldn't trust herself to speak; she just nodded and buried her head in her hands. She was crying again, but for a completely different reason.

"I don't want to take her from you," Jiraiya sounded pained. "That's not how it works in Konoha at all. Kids go to the Academy during the day, they might have an overnight field trip or two while attending, but other than that they live with their families and see their parents every day. She'd live with you, you'd still take care of her. I don't—I'm no good for that."

Chiyoko nodded. "Thank you," she managed to gasp, struggling to breathe now that she was overcome with relief.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," Jiraiya added. "This isn't a proposal or anything, not that you aren't a, err, wonderful woman." He winced, eyeing Hideki as if he thought the civilian man was going to lash out at him any second. "I'm just not a commitment guy like that, sorry. I'm not interested."

Chiyoko hiccupped, trying not to laugh. "No offense Jiraiya-sama, but I'm quite fine on my own. I think we'd both be happier left to our own devices."

"Right," agreed Jiraiya slowly, trying to determine if there was some veiled insult in that statement. "Just call me Jiraiya, though. Cut out this 'sama' business."

"Ok, Jiraiya-san." Chiyoko nodded amiably.

"Just—," he gave in with a sigh, wisely deciding this was not the argument to have that evening. He shook his head. "I'll go back to Konoha in the morning. I'll see the Hokage; get things smoothed out so that you and the kid can immigrate. I'll get an apartment set up for you, with furniture, and I'll pay for it until you can find a job to support yourself."

Chiyoko paled. "That's too generous—"

"Don't." Jiraiya cut her off. "She's my kid too, and I want to help where I can. I bet you'll find a job before you know it. Konoha has several civilian schools, and a bunch of rich brats that pay for private tutoring. And I have the finances; it's not any difficulty really."

The woman nodded hesitantly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes and ducking her head as she tried to rub the drying tears from her face. "So, you'll be back in a week?"

"Yeah—actually," Jiraiya looked thoughtful. "Let me go talk with some people. I need to make some arrangements." He brought his eyes up to meet hers. "Do you mind if I stop by in the morning before I return to Konoha? I'll update you on the timing of things and—," he fidgeted, trying to look as if the answer to his question wasn't important. "I think I'd like to talk with the kid before I go, if you'd let me?"

Chiyoko smiled—her first full, real smile of the night. "I think that would be good. I'd like for her to meet you properly too."

"Right." Jiraiya smiled back, uncertainly. Perhaps not quite sure about meeting Katsumi being a "good" thing. He rose to his feet. "Well, glad that's settled. 'Til morning," he nodded at her awkwardly and stepped toward the door to let himself out.

Hideki pushed off from the wall to follow him, pausing to clap his hand on his sister's shoulder. "Told you it'd be fine," he gave her shoulder a squeeze and she scowled, shrugging him off.

"That's not what you said at all," she grumbled under her breath as she watched the two men leave. Then she headed to bed, ready to get the first good night of sleep she'd had in a month.

* * *

Jiraiya hadn't felt so off kilter since the last time he'd dragged Orochimaru out of that damned lab of his and the snake spiked his saké with a new poison in retribution. He'd walked around for a week periodically seeing double and just feeling, well, off, until Tsunade had worked out an antidote. Admittedly, it'd been nice to hear Princess screaming at Orochimaru for once about experimenting on comrades without first creating anti-toxins, but it wasn't something he'd been keen to repeat.

He shifted his weight uneasily as he stood on the porch of the unassuming traditional house. It was strange to come through Grass Country again and realize that they truly were gearing up for war. Sad to think that after the last nightmare, people weren't pressing harder for peaceful resolutions. Even more awful to think he had a kid that might get caught up in this mess.

A kid.

A _daughter._

A tiny, defenseless person he'd had a part in creating who was now somewhat dependent upon him for making it to adulthood.

Fuck.

Good thing this kid had a mother whose head seemed to be screwed on right. That wasn't necessarily a requirement for his bedmates. Luck was on the brat's side in that one, even if it wasn't with getting a father who automatically made her prime target practice for every other nation.

Jiraiya ran a hand over his face. He'd always known this was a possibility with his, err, preference for past-times, but still—Tsunade was going to beat him black and blue. She'd been nagging him about being irresponsible and consequences and that this was going to happen for years now. And Snake Face hated kids so much that he stuck to men to prevent the remotest possibility of this exact occurrence.

Fuck.

Well, he tore his gaze away from examining the shrubbery around the house and stopped mentally tallying all the ways this house could be broken into without attracting the attention of neighbors. That wasn't helping his state of mind. The first thing he had to do was work to get his kid and her mom out of ass-backwards Kusa. Preferably before the kid got picked up by recruiting scouts or actual war broke out and everything went to hell in a giftwrapped handbasket. Sadly, that could be any day now according to Sensei's reports.

He straightened his shoulders and knocked on the weather-worn red door. He heard footfalls inside and the tinkling of a chain lock unhooking. _Like that would stop anybody who really wanted in._

Crap. He was going to have to modify security seals for whatever apartment they were in—usually the resident shinobi activated them, but he'd have to figure out if he could tweak them to be operated by a civilian—

The woman—Chiyoko-san, looked better this morning. Not that he thought she was unattractive the night before, but she'd been an emotional mess: uptight, anxious, generally giving off bag full of crazy vibes that any sane man avoided. She smiled at him and let him inside the house. They exchanged pleasantries, and before he knew it, she was showing him to a sunny bedroom, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter ahead of her.

He paused, looking uncertainly at the teacher. "Does she know?"

"I talked with her this morning," she murmured, waving him on in. "She doesn't bite. Really, aren't ninja supposed to be fearless?"

Jiraiya scowled at her and stepped inside the –he blinked, adjusting to the strange décor, it was a very pink room. A very _civilian_ room. And there was a little girl sitting at a child-sized table with four incredibly tiny modern wicker chairs by the window, sipping something from a miniature plastic teacup, a book perched in her lap. She appeared to be reading to a large stuffed rabbit and mouse that were propped in two of the other chairs at the table.

She looked up at his entrance, falling silent. Her mother's big green eyes were set in a smaller face, framed with long, dark brown hair.

She was adorable.

She looked absolutely nothing like him.

That was probably a good thing, actually.

He cleared his throat, rocking back on the heels of his feet and hooking his thumbs into his pockets. "Hello, Katsumi-chan."

She was silent for a few moments, seemingly content to study him with those wide eyes. Eventually, she looked away, down at her table and her toy companions. "Would you like to join my tea party?" She gestured to the empty chair at the table.

Jiraiya looked at the chair incredulously. There was no way—he would crush that wicker thing. "I think I'll just stand."

She frowned and shook her head gravely. "You can't join the conversation unless you're seated at the table." She sounded like she was reciting an etiquette book. He looked back at Chiyoko for help, but she held up a hand to her mouth, covering her grin.

Katsumi turned her attention back to her book when Jiraiya didn't move to join her, turning a page with a tiny hand.

Jiraiya scowled, he wasn't used to being ignored. This was ridiculous—_since when did four year olds get to make the rules?_ He was grumbling to himself mentally, but at the same time he was bending down to sit awkwardly on the ridiculously small white wicker chair. He had to lean forward and put more of his weight on his feet so he wouldn't simply smash the thing. He never knew he'd be using shinobi skills to attend a child's tea party.

This was ridiculous.

He felt ridiculous.

He was pretty sure he looked ridiculous and that Chiyoko-san was laughing at him.

He should probably be glad she didn't have a camera, because Tsunade would bankrupt herself for an opportunity to have a picture of this moment.

Katsumi looked up at him politely once he'd complied with her request, as if rewarding his good behavior. "Would you like some tea?"

"That'd be great," he drawled, deciding he might as well just roll with it, since he was already pretending to sit on this damned chair.

She poured him a drink from her playset teapot and held out the cup to him.

He took the teacup gravely, hooking it on his pinky finger and looking at its contents.

"…This isn't tea," he finally said, confused.

The child leaned forward, as if sharing a carefully kept secret. "It's milk," Katsumi confessed, looking slightly put out. "Mommy says tea has too much caffeine in it to use for playtime."

"Right." Jiraiya had no idea why that was important. Tsunade would probably know. Yet another reason why he shouldn't be the sole decision maker in any child's life. He'd apparently kill them from accidental caffeine overdose. He tossed back the cup gamely and then set it down.

By then, Katsumi was looking down at her book again, but she was gripping it tightly and not turning the pages.

He had no idea what to say to her. What had he even been expecting them to talk about? Poor thing looked scared of him and that's not what he wanted at all. "Katsumi-chan, is something wrong?"

She curled more tightly around her book. "You keep looking at me funny," came the quiet voice, tight with anxiety.

He pulled back at the unexpected answer. "I'm sorry. I've just not seen you before." He grinned. "I guess I keep trying to tell if you look anything like me!"

Katsumi peeked up at him, studying his own face. "I hope not," she finally said, looking earnest. "Your face is weird."

"Hey!" Jiraiya straightened in offense. "It is not!" He noticed her smile a second later and realized the kid was mocking him.

He hadn't expected her to know how to mock yet.

Huh. He wondered what else she might be able to do already. He'd gotten Minato when the kid was nine—he'd never really interacted with kids younger than that. He'd grown up in an orphanage of course, but he'd always been wandering off searching for adventures. He hadn't gotten along with most of the children his age and was never responsible for watching the younger ones. If she was already reading—he glanced down at her book, only growing more curious when he recognized it as an older collection of children's stories—how much of that did she really understand?

He played along with her teasing words. "Well, it's probably a good thing that you take after your mother since the beauty of this face," he pointed at himself, "is lost upon you. Clearly you need an education in aesthetic appreciation." He chose his words purposefully and spoke slower than usual, carefully watching the girl's fact to see if she was following along with the more advanced vocabulary.

She giggled. "You'll have to get me a book on it."

What a strange kid. Granted, he didn't know a lot of children with which he could compare her to, but he didn't recall them being so verbally advanced at this age. He was wracking his brain for memories of Kakashi, who'd clearly been quite intelligent from a young age, but had also been a taciturn, sulky brat. He didn't remember Kakashi having the grasp on humor that Katsumi appeared to have. Kakashi _still _didn't understand the purpose of humor.

He huffed. "I can already tell you're a lost cause."

Her smile fell and she retreated again. "Aunt Eri says I'm a freak."

"Aunt Eri is a—" Chiyoko cut her rant off midsentence as Jiraiya turned to her for an explanation.

Chiyoko narrowed her eyes at her child. "What did I tell you about trying to trick Mommy into cursing?"

Jiraiya looked back to the girl, who had grabbed her stuffed mouse and was failing to hide her smile in its fur, bright eyes peering mischievously up at the adults; mirthful mood the complete opposite of that she'd been projecting only seconds prior. "Mommy's two swear words away from having to buy me a new book," she confided to Jiraiya.

Jiraiya looked to Chiyoko for clarification, and the woman wrinkled her nose. "We have a jar that I put money into when I say something I'm not supposed to, and money gets taken out if Katsumi says something she's not supposed to. When it reaches a certain amount, Katsumi gets a new book. She gets a little impatient when it's close to the total and starts to set up situations to make me curse." She sniffed, "Which is not going to happen, little lady." Chiyoko strode away from the door, apparently deciding that she trusted Jiraiya enough not to harm her child when she was a room away.

It was nice no longer feeling the pressure of her scrutiny, but now he was alone with this child, _his_ child, and, in general, Jiraiya wasn't confident that he wouldn't manage to traumatize her in the ten minutes or so left of this meeting.

He would honestly much rather be fighting his way through hostile territory in a typhoon on an empty stomach than trying to introduce himself to his flesh-and-blood offspring.

He focused on smiling, and trying not to appear like a man who ended wars for a living. "Well, you're just the evil little master mind, aren't you?"

"No," she sniffed. "I'm adorable and precocious and delightfully manipulative." She paused. "I'm also four. I'm working on fixing that last one," she bitterly muttered with a pout.

"Oh?" Asked Jiraiya, amused.

"Yes," she nodded emphatically. "Mommy assures me it's a temporary condition, one which I'll eventually outgrow."

Jiraiya laughed. "Why would you ever want to be anything other than four, it looks like you have a pretty good setup here." He waved to encompass their surroundings; children's books and toys and a small horde of stuffed animals.

Katsumi turned large, sad eyes upon him. "But we're leaving, aren't we?"

_Wow_, _those eyes are going to be a weapon one day_. Jiraiya cleared his throat. "What has your mother told you about me, Katsumi-chan?"

The girl started playing with the sleeves of her yukata, rubbing at her arms as if cold. "Mommy said that you're my Dad. And that you're a ninja, but you live in another place and we're going to move where you are because it'll be safer."

"That's right," Jiraiya confirmed, throat feeling thick. "I am, and it will be. You'll be moving to Konoha." He watched as she became increasingly fidgety. "You'll go to school there, the same one I went to—Hey, stop that!" He reached across the table to take hold of her hands. "You're gonna claw your arm off!" He realized how hard she'd been scratching at her arms when her raised sleeve revealed irritated red marks against the girl's pale skin.

"Why were you doing that?" He scolded, pulling up her sleeve and examining the arm, pushing down the panicky wishful thinking for Tsunade's presence—the marks weren't nearly that bad. Chiyoko would be able to handle it, surely. He ignored the snotty inner voice that said Tsunade would handle it better.

"It itches," Katsumi whined, pulling away from him in discomfort. He felt the flutter of foreign chakra under his fingertips and suddenly Chiyoko's words from the night before were running through his head. He relaxed, confident that this was something which he could handle.

"Wait a minute," he said gently, refusing to let the child pull away, but careful not to apply too much pressure to the hold he had on her. Her wrists and hands were infinitesimal compared to the ones he usually encountered, possessed by sparring partners or enemy nin. He moved from the uncomfortable chair to the floor, coaxing Katsumi to come and sit next to him. "Your Mom mentioned this, you're making chakra unconsciously when you're stressed, and since you're not using it for anything, it's just building up and bothering you more. Let's see if we can't fix that."

He fell back into "sensei" mode, as Minato fondly called it. He recited the textbook introductory lecture on chakra and walked the girl through focusing on the substance and intentionally funneling it to her hand until it was so concentrated that her fingertips had a faint glow.

He felt a strange satisfied/proud feeling curling in his gut at the fascinated look on her face as she admired the glow to her hand. And then he remembered how quickly this should wear her out at this age. He frowned. "Do you feel tired?"

"No," she answered promptly. "What else does it do?" He wasn't too sure she was above lying to him for more information, so he made her release the flowing energy and sit still for a few minutes as he explained ninjutsu and genjutsu. He made a show of illusion-ing himself into various stuffed toys for her amusement. She clapped her hands and laughed, demanding more and wanting to try things for herself.

"Those are too advanced for you," he shook his head, refusing to be swayed by her pout. "But you could start—" he searched through his pockets for a notebook, tearing out a few blank pages. "Here, sit down, hold your hand out—" he put the paper on her flat palm. "Now," he instructed, "focus the energy back to your palm and try to get the paper to stick to it."

She hesitated. "Will it split again?"

"Will what split again?" Jiraiya asked, not understanding why she seemed so apprehensive.

"That's what it did when I went to see the doctor." Katsumi explained. "He gave me a piece of paper and it split in two and Mommy got _really_ upset."

_Sounds like wind nature then_, _that's exciting._ Jiraiya had mastered most chakra natures, including wind, but it wasn't his primary. It was rare in Konoha, though not as rare in the rest of the elemental nations. He'd be able to get Minato to help her out with that when the time came. Konoha would appreciate another wind user. And if her current chakra levels were any indication, she could become quite a powerful ninjutsu user one day.

"Daddy." Kastumi pulled on his pant leg, demanding his attention.

Jiraiya choked at hearing the word, and then chided himself internally for freezing up over such a small issue. He reassured her that this paper was a different type of paper and that applying chakra to it wouldn't make her mother upset. He supervised her efforts in a slightly detached manner, encouraging her to be patient when she didn't succeed with this exercise as quickly as she had with the prior one.

He could just hear Orochimaru mocking him with the term "Daddy," once his teammate heard the girl use it. He was such a little turd sometimes. Urgh—he felt old. Sensei was going to laugh his head off at Jiraiya as soon as Tsunade was done using him as a punching bag.

-And the girl still wasn't tired. She was even beginning to get the exercise; the paper was sticking to her hand for a few seconds before it fluttered to the ground. She picked it back up with that rather endearing scowl and tried to make it stick longer the next time.

He cleared his throat. "I think that's enough now." He reached out and confiscated the paper.

"But I'm not good at it yet!" She reached after the paper as he stashed it back in his pocket.

Jiraiya shook his head. "You can try it later when I'm gone, with leaves or paper."

Shit.

She was going to have no supervision, and a four year old really couldn't be counted on to know when to stop, or understand the dangers of chakra exhaustion.

Shit. He was in so much trouble. Tsunade really was going to have his head. He could forbid her from practicing, but he doubted, based on what he'd observed of her behavior (and from Minato's stories about Kakashi), that she'd actually listen to him.

"Katsumi-chan," he said seriously, making sure she was completely focused on him. "When you feel tired, you have to stop, you understand? If you don't you could get sick, or you could really hurt yourself. And there's nobody here who could help you get better from that, understand?" That last one was a lie, but he certainly didn't want Chiyoko to have to take her daughter to Kusa med-nin and explain that the girl was suffering from chakra exhaustion. And he didn't know if the civilian doctor she mentioned was experienced enough to handle such a problem or whether he could be trusted not to report it. "Promise me, Katsumi-chan?"

"Ok." The little girl looked innocently up at him. "But you have to read me a story first."

"I do, do I?" Jiraiya asked, bemused. "Are we negotiating?"

"Always," said the little girl, skipping over to her well-stocked bookshelf and retracting a slender novel.

She returned to Jiraiya and clambered into his lap, opening the book to a particular page. "Read this one," she pointed.

"Demanding aren't you?" He shifted, trying to ignore how strange it felt to be holding a child like this. "Kitsune, huh?"

"I like those the best." She tilted her head back to look up at him. "Mommy is very good at it."

"Then why I am reading it to you if you've heard it so often then?" He looked at the way the light was filtering in through the window. He really should get started on his way back to Konoha.

"No," howled Katsumi, twisting in his lap and pointing to the page again. "I don't know if I can like you if you can't tell a good story," she said, deathly serious.

Jiraiya snorted. "Oh, it's a test now, is it?"

"Yes," said Katsumi, leaning back against him. "And I follow along cause I'm still learning to read it all," she traced her fingers over the shapes on the page. "Remember to do the villain voices good."

"I'll have you know I do excellent villain voices," Jiraiya informed, settling in to read the story. He thought he vaguely remembered this tale. "A farmer lived on the edge of a village…"

* * *

"She fell asleep on you, huh?" Chiyoko asked, _finally_ rounding the door frame, following the toad he'd summoned to get her.

Jiraiya looked at her crossly. He'd finished the story fifteen minutes ago, but he hadn't realized the girl had fallen asleep sometime during the tale. He knew she had to be more tired from those chakra exercises than she let on. He felt a bit deflated, wondering what it said for his storytelling abilities that he sent her right to sleep. And then of course, he had no idea what to do with her, and was terrified of moving and waking her.

Chiyoko had no such problem, pulling out a futon and tucking the girl in to finish her impromptu nap. Katsumi protested sleepily, but didn't fully wake.

Jiraiya rose to his feet and handed the book over to Chiyoko, who returned it to the shelf.

"I should get going," he ran a hand through his hair. "I stayed longer than I meant to."

"It sounded like the two of you had fun. I could hear you laughing as I graded papers." Chiyoko bent to pick the stuffed rabbit off the floor and put it next to Katsumi, who curled around it in a little ball.

"She's a good kid," said Jiraiya with a brisk nod. "Smart, like you said. A lot of potential."

Chiyoko frowned. "She'll be safe though, in Konoha? And you will train her right; give her the tools she needs to survive?"

"As safe as I can make her," Jiraiya promised. He could only hope that would be enough. "And she'll get the best teaching there is," of that he was certain. "I want to leave Gekomatsu with you, and another toad too," he requested as they left Katsumi's room. "They'll be able to keep an eye on things here, help you if you need it, and with them here I'll be able to return more quickly than I otherwise would."

"They're summons right?" Chiyoko asked, saying the word as if it was the first occasion she'd used it. "Will they be able to stay that long?"

"Of course," Jiraiya scratched his nose. "It's only a week, and they don't take a lot of energy to summon or maintain. I'd like to put up a seal though too, somewhere in the entryway would be best. It'll keep any sensor ninja from being able to detect Katsumi."

Chiyoko perked up. "It will?"

Jiraiya nodded. "It's a short term solution, and it only works while she's in the house, but it's the best I can do at the moment."

"Thank you," Chiyoko sounded relieved. "I appreciate it."

Jiraiya had just finished activating the seal and putting up his ink when the soft patter of footsteps reached his ears and he looked down to see Katsumi, hair mussed from her nap, blinking sleepily up at him.

"Are you leaving?" She murmured, rubbing at her eyes.

"Yes," he said. "But you'll see me again soon."

"Oh." She held up her hands in the universal 'pick me up gesture.'

"I can't leave if I'm carrying you, silly girl!" He put a hand on her shoulder to turn her back toward her mother.

"No," the girl stomped her foot. "I have to give you a kiss goodbye, I always give Mom one. It's tradition. I can't do that if you don't pick me up, you're too tall!" She pushed against his knee in grumpy protest.

"Ah," Jiraiya swallowed, refusing to look at Chiyoko, who he was certain was laughing at him again. He bent down and obligingly picked up his daughter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"Bye Daddy, be safe," she said softly as he returned her to Chiyoko, who held her arms outstretched for her child.

"Bye kid," he said, passing her over to her mother.

Mother and daughter watched him leave from the porch. He looked back once, and they were still standing in the same place, looking out as he left. Chiyoko had Katsumi balanced on her hip, and Katsumi rested her head against her mother's shoulder.

He turned back around, not sure how to describe what he was feeling at the moment.

Ridiculous kid.

_Daddy_.

Delightfully manipulative indeed.

Shit.

* * *

Rev. 4/28/2016


	3. Chapter 3

"You are an idiot," hissed Tsunade, for what felt like the tenth time that day. She had her head in her hands, sitting in a chair she'd pulled up close to Sensei's desk.

"I am not," snapped Jiraiya, gritting his teeth and trying to reign in his own temper. This is what he got for not insisting that this conversation with Sensei was private. It was partially his fault for barging in on Sensei without checking with the secretary. He was used to being able to take certain liberties with the old man and rudely barging in, no matter time or company, was one of them. He should have taken into account that Sensei's "company" might be his own two stubborn teammates, who both knew he'd been summoned by a source in Grass Country and would be too interested in the fruits of his travels to accept "it's private" as a good enough reason to scram. They'd seen way too much of each other's sorry lives to respect something like "privacy."

Orochimaru snorted contemptuously from where he was reclining on the sofa pressed back against the far wall of the Hokage's office.

Sensei just sat in his chair, puffing away on his pipe, arms folded, eyes closed—as if this bickering was an everyday occurrence. Which, for him, it more or less had been for the past twenty years.

"Look Princess," said Jiraiya, eyes narrowing. "What was I supposed to do, just leave the kid there? Let Kusa stick her in their sub-par military and accept the fact that she probably won't live past the first year of the war, whenever it eventually starts?"

" Yes!" Tsunade picked up her head to glare at him with fierce amber-brown eyes. "Because she's probably not even _yours_! Because every nation is on the verge of war and isn't it _awfully convenient_ that it's only now this strange woman from a small allied nation comes forward claiming to have your child?"

"I confirmed it, first," bit out Jiraiya. "I wouldn't have brought any of this to your attention if I wasn't absolutely sure she was my kid." He had known Tsunade would be irate, and sure enough, the first thirty minutes of this conversation had been variations of "I told you so, you moron" from the blonde, peppered with superior knowing looks from Orochimaru. Sensei had yet to actually say anything.

Jiraiya felt like he was twelve years old again, and was just itching to tackle them both and grind their faces into the mud. He was thirty, why couldn't they trust him to act like an adult and not an impulsive kid?

"I don't understand what your problem is Princess. I need you to climb down from your moral high ground and actually help me here. Because look, it already happened, the kid is coming here whether you like it or not, and I could use your help instead of your ridicule. That goes for both of you." He leaned back in his chair to glare at his dark haired teammate. "I don't understand why you're so worked up about this."

Tsunade looked like she might dissect him with a scalpel if she had one on hand, slapping a palm to the desk so hard that Sensei's baubles and paperweights rattled sideways. Sensei's hand popped out automatically to catch Tsunade's neglected coffee mug before it could drop to the floor and shatter. He set it back on the table, all without opening his eyes or dislodging his pipe.

"We're so worked up because we're worried about you, you huge oaf!" Tsunade said intensely, still looking like she might leap up from her seat and take a more hands-on approach to find out why his brain wasn't working. "You wear your heart on your sleeve and anyone with half a mind could see this would be an easy way to get under your skin, get into your life-"

"And, interfere with your performance and Konoha's overall effectiveness," came Orochimaru's smooth drawl. "It would actually be an opportune time for any of our enemies to execute such a plan." His yellow eyes wandered over to Tsunade. "Although, I do doubt the ability of a child to fake a chakra signature."

"Fuinjutsu on the kid, genjutsu on Jiraiya," snapped Tsunade, ticking off possibilities on her fingers.

"Honestly," Jiraiya bristled. "I've not fallen for an illusion-"

"I don't care," rebutted the medic nin. "I won't believe she's yours until I've overseen every aspect of the DNA test myself and have the results in my angry little hands." She drummed her fingers against the mammoth desk that had been a silent witness to most of their team's arguments.

Jiraiya frowned and crossed his arms defensively. He opened his mouth to-

"Look at you," huffed Tsunade. "You're already attached to her aren't you? You've not even known her for a week and you're ready to go to battle for her," she drew out her last words, "_against us_."

Her brow was furrowed and her mouth pursed in displeasure. Jiraiya tried very hard not to think about how pretty she looked when she was this angry. It really wasn't fair for her to look so attractive when she was on the opposite side of the argument. It was very distracting.

Orochimaru was examining his nails, but he wasn't adding anything to Tsunade's speech, which usually meant he felt she was representing his concerns adequately.

Admittedly, it was nice to know that his teammates' concerns stemmed from their usually unacknowledged desire to protect him from his own idiocy. But this time, their worry was misplaced. He could take care of himself.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reigning in his temper and leaning back in his own chair. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, I understand you're worried about me. We've all, usually as a joke, talked about 'what-if's' for years now. I _have_ listened to what you've said on those occasions, believe it or not, and I wasn't acting rashly. I confirmed it with the best sensor I know, who has never been wrong and knows my own chakra signature intimately. I'm defending her because she's my kid, that's what parents do."

He opened his eyes to meet Tsunade's doubtful gaze and found that Sensei was casting an assessing one of his own at Jiraiya as well.

"You'll like her," the toad sage pressed forward. "She's smart. She's verbally advanced, she already understands large words like precocious and aesthetic-"

"Clearly not your child then," muttered Orochimaru.

Jiraiya was going to ignore that, for now. "She can read as well as your kid Sensei, and she's a quick learner. She picked up the first two basic chakra exercises the Academy teaches within thirty minutes-"

"You taught an unsupervised four year old to use chakra?" Tsunade said flatly. "If she really is from a completely civilian lifestyle, who's going to be able to monitor and step in if she overdoes it? Kids always do, it takes them a while to learn their limits and they don't realize how seriously they can damage their systems at that age!"

He probably should have kept that quiet. "Make up your mind! You can't pretend you want nothing to do with her or that she's an evil plant by a foreign country and then yell at me for negligence and say I should take better care of her!"

"Civilian background, you said?" Orochimaru looked pensive. "Perhaps it would have been better if you'd removed her completely from her mother's care. If she is already that advanced developmentally, it may be hard to recondition her to an optimal mindset for a military career."

Jiraiya's mouth fell open. "She's not some type of experiment! She's clearly very attached to her mother, who is doing a pretty good job of raising her from what I can tell. It would be wrong to separate them, it would devastate both of them."

"Or that's what she wants you to think," quipped Tsunade as Orochimaru gathered himself to further expound upon his point.

"Enough!" Said Sensei, clapping his hands and sounding exasperated with all of them, as usual. The trio turned mulish gazes upon him.

He removed his pipe and tapped it against the edge of the desk. "I've heard all your points and this is what we're going to do." The three waited for his verdict, two of them tense and the third adopting his best 'merely curious' posture.

"The child and her mother will both come to Konoha, in accordance with Jiraiya's assurances." Sarutobi said sternly, making some notes of his own to get the necessary paperwork started.

"But Sensei-"Tsunade protested as Jiraiya sagged back into his chair in relief.

"Enough Tsunade," stressed the older man. "I believe that Jiraiya-kun has handled the situation to the best of his abilities, and has shown good reasoning and foresight in the decisions he's made so far on this matter." He dipped his head in acknowledgment of his typically rash student.

Jiraiya fidgeted, uncomfortable with the praise.

"We won't be taking the child from her mother, Orochimaru," said the Sandaime, absently. "That's just not how things are done here in Konoha—even if you have a valid point that it might be easier for her to adjust to her new career expectations if she's separated from a mother who holds anti-shinobi sentiment."

The dark haired sannin shrugged, as if it didn't matter much to him in the end. His blank expression cloaked any hint of personal disagreement with his teacher.

"However," Sarutobi continued idly, shuffling the papers on his desk. "I agree with Tsunade and Orochimaru that the timing is suspicious, and it won't hurt anyone to exercise extra caution. For that reason, Jiraiya won't be going to retrieve the girl. We'll send a neutral party, who we can trust to be sensitive to the situation and make objective observations. As soon as the girl arrives in Konoha, Tsunade will immediately perform what she deems to be the appropriate tests to confirm paternity. Jiraiya will have no further contact with the child until Tsunade confirms she's his." He looked up at his audience: Tsunade smug, Jiraiya sullen, and Orochimaru, for all intents and purposes, dozing in apathy. "Is that understood?"

A chorus of "yes, Sensei" met his ears and he nodded.

"Who are you thinking about sending to get her then?" Jiraiya asked, rubbing at the back of his head and still looking mutinous.

"I wouldn't mind going," offered Orochimaru calmly.

Jiraiya blinked in surprise at the unexpected offer, turning to his friend, "Really?" He certainly would feel better about everything if he could trust whoever was going to pick them up, but Orochimaru was notoriously difficult to get out of his lab.

"It will be interesting to meet the girl, see if she is as quick as you say or if you're truly just blinded by ridiculous paternal sentiment," drawled the snake sannin.

Jiraiya puffed up defensively-

"No, no," the Sandaime chided, the same way a mother might say 'not now, children.' "You left your toads there, yes?"

"Uh-huh'" Jiraiya grunted affirmatively. "I was planning on reverse summoning myself back to Kusa—save a bit of travel time. The toads are set to pull me back in three days."

"Good," said Sarutobi, retrieving his pipe with calloused hands. "We'll send Minato-kun the same way, and he can bring them back on foot. It'll give him plenty of time to observe them and it's an appropriate mission for that young team of his."

Jiraiya cheered up a bit, comfortable with the suggestion, making a mental note to send out an update to the toads he'd left that they'd be reverse summoning Minato-kun rather than Jiraiya.

Tsunade stood with a sigh. "Are we done here?" She asked impatiently, satisfied with the outcome of things and clearly ready to get back to the hospital. She shot Jiraiya a suspicious look. "You're not hiding any more kids are you? This isn't the moment you tell us she has a twin, is it?"

Jiraiya sniffed haughtily, "No. I'm done, thanks Princess."

Tsunade rolled her eyes and muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.

"Wait," called Jiraiya, twisting around in his chair as Tsunade and Orochimaru headed for the door. "When she comes, her mother won't know anyone here. If anything happens to me I'd feel a lot better knowing you two had promised to look after her."

Tsunade pulled back, affronted. "You don't even know if she's your kid-"

Orochimaru cut her off by placing a hand on her shoulder. "You know we'd watch out for any of your children, your student included, if anything should happen."

"Well, I know you'd do it unofficially," Jiraiya muttered, scratching his cheek as he flushed, unexpectedly embarrassed and hesitant. "And I guess this is a little late, technically, but I was hoping you'd each agree to be her godparents?"

Tsunade paused, and then raised her eyes heavenward as if praying for patience. Finally, she tilted her head back down and pinched the bridge of her nose. "If this kid is _really_ yours," she promised, sounding pained, "I'll be the best fucking god-mother on the face of the planet."

Orochimaru scoffed. "Well obviously, I'll still be the better godparent, because I'll manage to do it with less cursing and alcohol. And probably without imparting a gambling habit either."

Jiraiya grinned and said a quick thanks as Tsunade slapped their teammate upside the head and the two left the office, bickering quietly with each other.

He turned back in his chair to face Sensei, only to find the other man puffing on his pipe and staring steadily at Jiraiya, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes.

"What?" asked Jiraiya. _Is there something on my face? _He scratched his nose again, just in case.

"Oh nothing," mumbled the Sandaime, turning his attention back to his paperwork. "Only, it makes me feel so very old to see all three of you acting like grown-ups, even if it's just occasionally. So very old, and so very proud."

Jiraiya ducked his head, hiding his childish thrill at the praise. "Well don't get used to it," he said, voice gruff. "We're supposed to be keeping you young, after all."

"You've been putting forth an excellent effort," agreed the Sandaime. "If we're judging by the collective level of maturity the three of you typically display in my presence."

"It's good to have people to keep you on top of your game." Jiraiya teased his teacher with his usual wide grin.

Sarutobi's eyes had a distant sheen to them. "I'm not sure I have much more game in me, Jiraiya-kun."

Jiraiya's smile dropped. "Sensei?"

"I'm tired, Jiraiya-kun," said the Hokage frankly, face blank. "I'm tired and this war hasn't even officially started yet."

"Sensei," said Jiraiya, voice atypically concerned and grave. "Now would be a horrible time to retire."

Sarutobi waved off his concern. "I'm perfectly aware of that. If we're going to war, Konoha will do better with me at the helm, despite how capable I think the three of you are." He sighed. "No, you three are still of best use in the field I'm afraid. Heavens, I can't even get Orochimaru and Tsunade to take apprentices yet, much less a genin team. We're going to have to address that soon."

The older man rearranged some of the ornaments on his desk that Tsunade had displaced in her temper. "I have one more war in me, Jiraiya-kun. That's it."

Jiraiya nodded, his voice full of gravel. "I understand, Sensei." And he did. He understood that if he didn't want to wind up under that god-awful hat, he was going to beat some social skills into Snake Face or find someone else better suited for the job. _Oh no, please, anyone but that do-gooder Dan_.

"Good," said the Hokage amiably. "Now go off and tell Minato-kun to come see me once you've found him, so I can officially give him the details for this mission."

"Sure thing," Jiraiya agreed. He popped to his feet and headed to the door.

"Oh, Jiraiya-kun," called the Sandaime, attention already returning to his document.

Jiraiya paused in the doorway and looked back for instruction.

"I'm sure you've already thought of this," Sarutobi elaborated as he reached for a pen. "But while it's fine to tell Minato about the situation, I think we should keep quiet about this to everyone else. I'm not even planning on letting Minato-kun tell his team about the underlying reason for the mission, do you agree?"

Jiraiya nodded. "I think that's the best plan, Sensei. Even when she gets here, I was going to try to limit the publicity of any relationship."

"While probably not entirely possible, I think that's a wise goal considering the climate," agreed the Hokage, waving his student off and calling for his secretary.

Jiraiya wound his way down and out of the tower, heading off to search for his own student. He knew why his teammates' were dragging their feet on agreeing to teach genin. Unlike Tsunade and Orochimaru, Jiraiya had already taken a team of genin. Heck, he basically had taken two. And, as far as he knew, only one of the six had made it through the last war alive. Those types of statistics dampened a prospective teacher's spirit a bit. And of course, to be good at it, like Sensei, you had to invest your whole heart into teaching. Know those kids inside and out, as if they were members of your own family.

Despite the myths surrounding the habits of ninja, the majority of them didn't actively seek out pain and heartbreak.

Although, Jiraiya seemed to be cursed more than most with his inability to keep kids alive.

And now he had another one.

Jiraiya started when he realized he'd come to a stop in the middle of the road. He made a weak attempt at smiling and muttered an apology to two women who apparently were acquainted enough with his reputation not to approach, but concerned enough to look like they were mulling over whether to find the nearest military police officer and ask for assistance. He picked up his step and continued on his way, quickly taking to some back roads to avoid running into anyone he knew who might call him out on his abnormal behavior.

Jiraiya wasn't the type of person to dwell on depressing thoughts for long, so he shook his head to clear his mind and headed toward the training fields where Minato should be with his own students. Hopefully talking about the situation with Minato would be easier than breaking it to his childhood friends; who seemed to think him incapable of taking responsibility for a potted plant, much less a child. Maybe he could ask the kid some questions about Kakashi-kun too, see if Sakumo's boy had developed a sense of humor yet or was still fatally deficient in that category.

All he could do now was try his best, right?

It hadn't been enough before, but, as the saying went, surely he was older and wiser now? That had to count for something.

It would have to.

Because Jiraiya wasn't sure he could handle yet another child dying on his watch.

* * *

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Chiyoko's words blurred together as she reached out and accepted the sleeping bags from Hideki.

"It was easy enough," said her brother, taking a seat at the kotatsu table now that he'd been divested of the several boxes he'd brought to the house. "I just told the shopkeepers that I was planning on taking the boys camping. I had to buy some surplus, but the boys really will get some good use out of them eventually."

Chiyoko nodded, absentmindedly flipping her hair over her shoulder as she sorted through the rest of the items her brother had obtained.

"Did anyone see you bringing the stuff here?" Croaked a purple toad, peeking out from under the blanket to converse with the humans.

She hadn't turned the heater on, but the toads appreciated hiding under the covered table for some reason, so she'd gone ahead and brought out the heavier blanket even though the weather wasn't cold enough to warrant it.

"No." Hideki gave a grunt, seemingly nonplussed from conversing with an amphibian. "I bought everything two days ago and changed the bags and boxes. I told the neighbors I was taking some of Ma's old stuff over here because Eri didn't want it anymore."

Chiyoko tried not to jump as the other toad_— Gekomato? Something like that_—clambered over the lid to peer into the box she was examining.

"Looks good to me," said the toad. "That's everything we recommended. Now you just have to pack it all up." The creature blinked its large eyes before gazing up at Chiyoko. "Has the girl decided what to take yet?"

The woman's shoulders slumped and she pursed her lips.

Her brother laughed, low and dry, from the table. "She can't decide what books to bring, huh? You told her we'd ship the rest once you got there right?"

The school teacher sniffed and firmly closed the box, shooing the toad away from the items. "Books are important. Have you told Eri yet, that we'll be leaving?"

"Nuh-uh," Hideki gave a negative shake of his head. "She's not too good at holding her tongue when she's got the one with the best gossip." He smiled fondly.

Chiyoko hid her cringe. She wasn't always entirely fair to her sister-in-law. Eri was a gossip, conservative, and a bit flighty, but the woman did love Chiyoko's brother and her own children. She had no ambition beyond being a pretty, traditional housewife. And while that personally sat ill with Chiyoko, it seemed to work well for Eri and Hideki. They found a way to love each other and raise their family in that arrangement, and Chiyoko supposed that's what mattered in the end.

Hideki continued, oblivious to Chiyoko's thoughts. "I just told Eri you had me pick some things up for a class you'd be doing next week, since you are stuck in the house with a sick kid right now. She was happy enough with the promise you were paying for the things yourself and that you weren't leaving her to care for a sick kid all week on top of her own shit."

The school teacher sighed. She didn't like that her brother kept things like this from his wife (Eri wasn't a child, after all), but with the type of relationship Eri and Hideki had, Eri would, most likely, rather not know. She rubbed at her exhausted eyes and tried to focus on the conversation. "I can't blame her really, I'd hate the idea of anything increasing the chances my own kids would become ill too. It's hard enough caring for Katsumi when she really is sick, I bet your boys are a right handful when all three are ill at once." She bustled about the kitchen, pouring some tea to serve her brother.

"You're good with this right?" His hazel eyes were as earnest as they always were, but for some reason Chiyoko found herself choking up under his gaze. She'd never 'left' home before. The family had moved cities, closer to the Hidden Villages when her brothers had been taken (her Father had hoped they might see them or visit or something) but they'd all moved together. And Hideki had never been farther than a ten minute walk away, even when he'd moved out and married.

Chiyoko and her mother had moved into this small house after father's death, and Chiyoko had inherited it after her mother followed their father a few winters later. It was the house in which Chiyoko had studied for and earned her teaching license and that she had said goodbye to her mother in. She and Izumi had stayed up late for three weeks making Eri's decorations for Hideki's wedding in the living room. Katsumi had been born in the guest room and said her first words in the kitchen and taken her first steps across the engawa—

"I'll be good," promised Chiyoko, voice thick, eyes liquid. "I'm not right now, but I will be. This is what needs to happen." She laughed weakly. "I always knew I couldn't keep her a secret forever, not with who her father—"

"Mommy, Mommy!" Katsumi ran into the room, dragging a backpack on the floor behind her, her normally exuberant pace slowed down by its weight. "I finished packing, see?"

Chiyoko swallowed her tears and smiled. "I don't think so; you have to carry the backpack on your back by yourself, Honey. That's why I said no more than three books. Nobody else can help you carry your stuff and we'll be walking for a long time, so it has to be fairly light."

Katsumi visibly wilted. "But I can't decide, they're all good books," she whined, turning in place and tangling herself up in the straps of the pack.

Hideki hummed. "We'll send you everything else in a little while, it's not like you'll never see them again."

Far from reassured, Katsumi sat on the ground and promptly burst into tears, startling the toads which had gone to investigate her packing into squawks of retreat.

"Baby what's wrong?" blurted Chiyoko, straightening as she finished moving the boxes into a small storage room.

"'M never gonna see Uncle Hideki and my nii-sans again," Katsumi wailed, rubbing clenched fists over her eyes.

Chiyoko scooped up her sobbing child with a grunt. _It won't be long before she's too big for me to carry at all._ She deposited the girl in her uncle's lap.

Hideki awkwardly patted the girl on her back and sent a dark glare at his sister.

"I didn't think you even liked the boys," he said in an unsuccessful attempt at consolation.

"I don't like Shinji because he pulls my hair," managed Katsumi in between hiccups, twisting around to wrap her arms around Hideki's neck and burying her face in his collar. "But Jun-nii-san sneaks me coo-coo-cookies and Nori _always_ listens to me read my stories and now they're never gonna be there aga-again." Her words became muffled as she turned her face fully into Uncle's shirt. Hideki turned his unusually helpless gaze upon his sister.

Feeling merciful, Chiyoko stepped forward to relieve her brother of his newly acquired limpet, only to pause at the sharp knock sounding from the door. She stilled and her panicked eyes turned to her brother.

Hideki's arms wrapped a bit more tightly around his small bundle. "It'll be fine, get the door." He stood with the girl and moved toward the far corner of the main living space, out of the sightline of the front door and entryway, but where he could still hear any conversation.

Chiyoko swallowed and nervously smoothed the folds in her dress. "I'm coming," she announced, as the sharp knocks came from the door again. She shooed the toads at her feet toward the kotatsu, watching them slip fully under it before she undid the chain lock with shaky hands and slid open the door.

"Yes?" She greeted the pair of men at her door with a question, eyes squinting in the afternoon sunlight. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, but the glint of hitai-ate in the sun was unmistakable. Her fingers tightened on the wooden door frame.

"Can I help you?" She felt like a field mouse under the gaze of hunting hawks, and her heart tightened as the younger of the pair smiled in what was most likely calculated to be an expression to put her at ease. Her eyes flickered briefly over the older of the pair, but he seemed bored and uninterested, dark gaze not even looking into the house behind her.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," the young man was polite and calm, gaze steady. "My name is Jiro and this is my partner Iwao. We were wondering if," his eyes glanced down at a list in his hands, he tapped his thumb against the clipboard. "Kinoshita Katsumi and her parents were in." He brought his eyes up to meet hers once more, smiling wide. "Might we talk to them?"

Chiyoko tried to speak around the stone in her throat, but was sure she came across as nervously hoarse. "I'm her mother, but I'm afraid Katsumi-chan's not feeling well today."

The younger man gave a considerate hum and pulled a pen out from behind his ear, making a note on the paper. "Is your husband home? We'd still like to talk to the pair of you, please."

"There's no husband," Chiyoko said stiffly, fighting down a blush of shame at the young man's raised eyebrow and suggestive second look over. "My older brother is here with me," she bit out, in an attempt to end that nonsense. "He brought over some medicine for my daughter. She's been sick all week and the apothecary says it's contagious, that's why I've been staying home with her and not gone into work. The doctor says she should be over it by mid-time next week if you'd like to come back then."

"We just have a few questions," insisted the spokesman, stepping forward and invading her space, acting as if he was going to force himself inside the house. "It won't take long—"

"We'll be back in three days." The older partner held out his arm, thwarting his younger companion's efforts to move forward. "We'll be in the area for the next week, it won't hurt us to postpone this visit and the girl should be well enough by then to talk with us."

Jiro opened his mouth to protest, but the older man whacked him upside the head and pushed him down the porch.

Chiyoko blinked up at him, perplexed.

"Sorry about him," Jiro said with an explanatory grunt. "The young ones forget how civilian life works. Three days," he turned to amble after his partner, adding one last afterthought: "you'll probably want your brother present for the conversation."

"Th-thank you," Chiyoko managed to squeak out, before giving a quick bow to the two retreating men (not that they were watching for it, but it never hurt anyone to be polite) and melting back into her house, fingers fumbling to redo the lock. She spun around and sank against the closed door, crossing her arms tightly against her chest as if that might be a successful strategy for warding off inquisitive Kusa-nin.

Hideki watched her with concern, Katsumi still in his arms. Her daughter had been wrapped in a throw blanket, probably just in case the Kusa nin forced their way inside despite Chiyoko's protests. Katsumi peeked out from the covers, green eyes wide. She seemed impossibly young and tiny as she peered out from the safety of her cocoon.

The toads emerged from their hiding spaces and hopped about, arranging themselves gracelessly about Hideki's legs as he sank onto a cushion.

"That was close," muttered the purple one.

"Was that the first time they've come?" asked the senior toad, eyes trained on the door.

"Yes," said Chiyoko as she crossed the room on shaky legs to collapse at the table with her brother. "They said they'll be back in three days. Jiraiya comes in two. Do you think they'll be back sooner?"

"No," said the toad thoughtfully. "There was no reason for him to lie to you, and they've probably been given orders to work with the families when necessary. I wouldn't take Katsumi outside though. Wouldn't hurt for her to pretend to actually be sick for the next two days—keep her in her nightclothes and no running or screaming or such."

"Boo," said the purple toad, deflating a bit. He'd been having a grand time wreaking minor havoc in the household with his newest ward.

"I could go get Jiraiya though," added the older toad. "If you were really worried about it."

"No," said Chiyoko, shaking her head. "It's just two days. We should be fine." She cleared her throat. "They had a list, Hideki-kun. They probably got it from the local schools and nurseries."

Hideki's unsurprised gaze implied he'd already come to that conclusion.

Chiyoko's felt like her intestines were being tied into knots. "I could try and take them too—"

"No," her brother shook his head, shaggy hair badly in need of a cut falling in his eyes. "I want them here. And Eri wouldn't—she wouldn't understand." He gave her a weak smile. "We'll take our chances. They're not like Katsumi; they don't have," he closed his mouth tightly. "They don't stand out that way. And Jun is too old anyways."

"You should go home." She whispered, nails digging into her arms. "And you probably shouldn't come back. I don't want anyone thinking you knew about this."

"You think that's best?" He looked unhappy at the suggestion, but understanding of the logic underlying the proposition.

"I do. I want to minimize the possibility that your family will face repercussions for this as much as I can. Now we can claim I arranged this in reaction to this visit, and that you had no idea about any of it."

Hideki nodded slowly, pressing a kiss to Katsumi's dark curls before setting the girl down on the couch. "You be good for your Mom now, right? You just stow that attitude of yours 'till you get to your new home. Then you can go cause as much trouble as you want for your Dad."

Katsumi nodded obediently, spirits dampened by the day's events.

"We'll write," he promised, pulling in his sister for a hug.

"Yes," Chiyoko agreed, doing her best not to give into the tears once more clouding her vision. "I'll write. I'll miss you. And the boys. And maybe even Eri."

Hideki snorted, but still held tight.

"Okay," agreed Chiyoko. "That last one was stretching it. But thank you. You've been the best brother."

"Nah," disagreed Hideki. "I've managed to make a right mess of things most times. And let you make a mess of things too."

"They've always turned out for the best," murmured Chiyoko. "And it's what's made me love you so much, that you let me make my own messes."

She could feel him nod against her hair and he finally pulled back. "You've always been the smart one, so I don't doubt you'll take care of yourself and the brat. But if you ever need to come back, I'll be here."

He stroked her cheek gently before pulling on his jacket and heading to his own home.

She stood staring at the closed door for long after he left. Until Katsumi's insistent tugs on her skirt began to be accompanied by a grumbling stomach and she realized she needed to feed her offspring.

She donned the ratty apron she'd had since she was seventeen and pulled out some pans from the cupboard. Katsumi sat at the table listlessly, tracing patterns on the tabletop with her tiny fingers. Chiyoko fixed a quick meal, but when she set the bowls out and sat down to eat, she found she had no taste for the food.

"We're not going to see them again, are we Mommy?" Asked Katsumi softly, pushing cold noodles across her plate.

Chiyoko didn't have the heart to scold her for not eating her food. It would be a bit hypocritical when her own plate was completely untouched. She stood and began to clear the table, firm in the conviction that she wouldn't lie to her daughter, but unable to voice the answer out loud for fear it would become prophesy.

* * *

Tsunade glared darkly at the journals in front of her, as if staring at them intently might make the contradicting sets of data suddenly make sense. The giggling of the night nurses from their station outside her office alerted her to the likelihood of visitors. The lack of a slap and offended gasps following the giggling narrowed the identity of the visitor to Dan.

She looked guiltily at the clock, just as the gentle knock of knuckles on wood assaulted her ears.

"Come in," she groaned, running her fingers over her head and up into her hair.

Dan cautiously opened the door. "Is this a good time to interrupt?"

Tsunade scowled. "I'm two hours late and you come in here and ask if you can interrupt?" She hunched down in her chair. "I don't know why you aren't barging in here yelling, I would be if our positions were reversed."

Dan just laughed and stepped fully into the office, holding out a bag of food as if it were a peace offering. "I know you, and I know how often you get lost in your research," he teased, eyes kind. "So I just decided to give in to the inevitable and bring you fancy foreign takeout instead."

"I love you," said Tsunade, honey-colored eyes sincerely locked onto the bag giving off delicious aromas. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably starve," said Dan, nodding gravely. He grabbed an extra chair and pulled it up to her desk.

"Very likely true," agreed Tsunade with a sigh, leaning back and letting Dan divvy out containers before launching into her latest dilemma with reviewing the reports on Konoha's stock of non-native medicinal plants.

"I'm just going to have to go down there and count them all myself," huffed Tsunade. "Which is a waste of my time, but now somebody in the department is either lazy or lying and I've got to figure out who it is and then why."

"Hmmm," agreed Dan, sucking on the end of his chopsticks before resting them gently in his bowl. "You want to tell me what's really got you all wound up?"

Tsunade wrinkled her nose. "That's it. I just told you."

"Liar," drawled Dan flirtatiously, reaching out to tap her nose with his utensils.

The blonde huffed in mock offense and swatted him away. "My teammate is a moron."

Dan eyed her speculatively. "Jiraiya or –"

"Of course it's Jiraiya," Tsunade cut him off in irritation. "Orochimaru is many things, but he's not stupid."

Dan shrugged. "Well last week you said he was a moron for proposing to proceed with the human trials of the Suna anti-venom before the rat trials."

"Well, yes," huffed the blonde, crossing her arms. "That was stupid, I don't care if he does have reports from Mist trials with fish. You don't skip the rats. But obviously that prompted Jiraiya to reclaim the title. Some woman claims she's had his kid, and he's gone and decided to believe her without paternity test results and I just know he's fallen in love with this kid already because he wears his fuckin' heart on his sleeve like a freshly minted genin and he's just—why are you laughing?" Tsunade glared at her fiancé.

"Because it's funny how hard you try to hide that you are just as much of a bleeding heart as your teammate." Dan stole the last spring roll as Tsunade gaped.

"I am not!" She settled for hissing.

"You are too," mumbled Dan, around a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "So, Jiraiya may or may not have a kid, but if he does then you're going to have to care about the kid too, aren't you?"

Tsunade glared at her lover. "I may have agreed to be godmother if she turns out to really be his," she reluctantly admitted.

Dan beamed. "A girl? How old is she? Is she Shizune-chan's age?" He stood and began to clean up the remnants of their dinner as he peppered his fellow med nin with questions. "Wouldn't it be nice if she and Shizune-chan can be friends?"

"NO!" Howled Tsunade, rubbing at her forehead. "Stop arranging play dates already. Not you too! We don't know anything about this kid yet and you're already—ugh, just stop it!"

Dan grinned, green eyes sparking with interest, "Well I'm going to have to, aren't I? Jiraiya isn't as impulsive as you paint him to be, and if he's certain the kid is his then that is good enough for me. Besides, if you are her godmother doesn't that mean I at least get to play Uncle?"

"Oh no, she can't call me Aunt. I'm not old enough to be an Aunt. And you already have a niece," sulked Tsunade. "Stop trying to acquire other people's children. Especially Jiraiya's."

Dan laughed and tugged on her coat until her back rested against his chest. He kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Just think of it as good practice for when we have our own someday," he teased.

"No," moaned the blonde, "don't say things like that, they'll come true. With my luck we'll have three at once and they'll all be girls and wear_ pink_ all the time! They'll have you wrapped around their fingers and won't listen to a word I say and run off to marry pacifist poets!" She turned her head into Dan's shoulder in despair as he continued to find mirth at the expense of her over-active imagination.

* * *

It would have to be cereal for breakfast, along with the last of the milk. Chiyoko hadn't gone to the market yesterday as she normally did. She didn't see the point in such a trip when they would be leaving today. Her eyes avoided looking at the packs laid out against the wall even as she ran through mental lists of items for the twenty seventh time to be sure she hadn't missed anything. In the background, Katsumi-chan sang a nonsense song about white whales that didn't rhyme or make much sense but kept her occupied enough as she waited at the table. _Do I have enough produce to throw together some kind of salad?_

"Incoming," croaked one of the toads.

"What?" Chiyoko turned with the bowls of cereal in her hand at the same time a loud pop, accompanied with billows of smoke filled the room. She shrieked, throwing the bowls of cereal forward in surprise, heart leaping upon hearing Katsumi's high pitched cry of fear.

"What is this? Why am I wet?" came the young, unfamiliar voice of a boy.

"Mommy!" Cried Katsumi.

Chiyoko stumbled forward at the sound, only to run head first into an unmoving human wall. She bounced backward, hands clutching her smarting nose.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," spoke a different male voice in concern. "Are you alright?"

"WHY AM I WET!"

Chiyoko blinked her teary eyes, belatedly registering that the blood on her hands was _hers_, because apparently the stranger was secretly a boulder against which she'd smashed her poor, unprotected nose.

"It's milk, dumbass." Another new voice, also male, and young.

"Here, let me help you." She couldn't bring herself to protest as she was firmly pulled out of the kitchen, her vision clearing enough to realize she was being led by a young man with a Konoha hitai-ate. He was an attractive teenager, with bright blond hair and earnest blue eyes, but far too young for those sorts of thoughts. And, of course, a ninja.

"Shut up twerp, I know it's milk, I want to know why it's on me."

The sounds of a scuffle coming from behind her alarmed her enough so that she tried to turn, but the teenager was having none of it, and instead was forcing tissues into her hand and asking her to lean her head back as he guided her to kneel on the tatami mats.

"Stop it you two, you're scaring the baby!" A girl's voice this time, commanding.

"How many people are in my house!" Chiyoko managed to ask, swatting the blond stranger's hands away from her face at the same time Katsumi gave some protest about not being a baby, she was four thank you very much.

"Just us," replied the stranger, helpfully.

"Err-," the stranger clarified sheepishly upon being subjected to Chiyoko's glare. "The four of us that is; myself and my three genin. We're the team that's been hired to accompany you to Konoha."

Chiyoko blinked. "Where is Jiraiya-san?"

"Busy." That was all the answer the stranger was willing to give, seemingly more concerned with her nose. "Rin, come over here please. Can you take a look at this?"

"Yes, Sensei. Just give me a second to finish getting the cereal out of Obito's hair."

"I don't need— RIN!" The male voice was whining again.

The other male voice snorted.

"Don't be a baby Obito, there it's all out. Go change while we have a moment," bossed the young female.

Chiyoko blinked as the girl popped into her line of sight. She was younger than Chiyoko anticipated, perhaps eight or nine, with short brown hair, big brown eyes, and broad purple stripes on her cheeks.

She held a glowing green hand up to Chiyoko's face, and Chiyoko barely restrained herself from pulling away.

"Oh," the girl said, shoulders falling back in relief. "That's easy enough, it's not even broken."

"Oh good," breathed their leader, relaxing as well and easing into a smile. "Breaking your client's nose is never the best first impression to make."

The girl—Rin, it must be, pulled her hand back and Chiyoko gently reached up to touch her nose, reassuring herself that the bleeding had stopped.

"See," supplied Rin, "all better."

"That—that's good then," Chiyoko managed to stutter, swallowing her cry for Katsumi when the child appeared before her and clambered up into her lap. She automatically smoothed her hand over her daughter's head.

Two boys followed her daughter into her line of sight, one older than Rin and one disturbingly younger. Surely he was too young to be a shinobi? Her fingers tightened in her daughter's yukata.

"I'm so sorry for bursting in on you like this—"

Chiyoko's head snapped back toward the leader, who was apparently intent on soothing ruffled feathers.

"The toads were supposed to explain to you that we'd be arriving at this time today," he continued.

"They missed that," she said stiffly, still not certain what to think about this turn of events.

"Sorry," the blond apologized again, bowing his head. "Sometimes they forget what they view as unimportant details." He raised his head. "I'm Namikaze Minato, Jiraiya's student. He told me he spoke to you about me."

"Yes," agreed Chiyoko. She swallowed and finally allowed herself to calm down a bit now that she had a reference for the young man. "He spoke very highly of you."

"Good!" Minato grinned. "I'm glad he's not got an opportunity to tell you all the embarrassing stories yet. This is my own team," he gestured to the three children. "You've met Nohara Rin; she's training to be a medical ninja."

"It's nice to meet you," the girl bobbed her head politely, with a sweet smile that Chiyoko couldn't help but return.

"And the boys are Uchiha Obito," Minato pointed to the older boy, "and then Hatake Kakashi, who happens to be the youngest ninja in our village, he's a bit of a prodigy that way. We normally don't graduate students until they are at least eight or nine."

Chiyoko blushed, apparently her unease with the boy's youth had been quickly read. She didn't like needing reassurance from a teenager. "You seem awfully young to have a team of your own," she settled for saying.

Minato grinned confidently. "I assure you ma'am, I may seem young, but I'm one of the best."

She couldn't tell if he was over-confident or just self-assured. She supposed she'd have to reserve her judgments and see how the boy handled himself.

"I'm hungry, Momma," interrupted Katsumi, tugging on Chiyoko's dress.

Chiyoko sighed. "My name is Kinoshita Chiyoko and this is my daughter, Katsumi-chan."

"And I suppose it's her breakfast I'm wearing," drawled the boy with dark hair and goggles.

Rin scowled. "I thought you were going to change your shirt, Obito."

Obito blushed, scratching at his nose. "This is the only shirt I brought, my Grandmother hadn't finished the laundry!"

"Obito-kun," scolded his leader. "You've known about this mission for several days now. Why didn't you do your own laundry when I told you to do preliminary packing?"

The youngest boy rolled his eyes.

"Obito, you were going to wear one shirt for the entire trip back to Konoha?" Rin hissed, nose scrunched as if she could already smell the result of that plan.

"I would have washed it along the way," squawked the boy defensively.

Chiyoko cleared her throat. "I have some nephews around your age Obito-kun. I believe I have a few of their shirts lying around, I can probably find something to fit you."

"Thank you, Chiyoko-san, we'd be grateful for that," said Minato, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache.

"Huuuungrrryy," whined Katsumi, twisting in her mother's grasp and pouting.

The Hatake boy snorted dismissively and Katsumi winced, shrinking against her. Chiyoko frowned and rubbed her daughter's back, not liking the way the boy looked at her daughter.

Minato stood and cuffed the youngest lightly upside the head as he rose. "Behave, Kakashi."

He held out a hand for Chiyoko and helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry, although we're very capable, this is still a young team and I'd ask for your patience with my _trainees_."

The way he emphasized the last word made all three children frown and Chiyoko could only nod as she retreated into the kitchen to re-fix Katsumi's breakfast and then find the older boy a couple of spare shirts.

* * *

"You've packed light," said Minato, tone approving as he reviewed the packs that had been kicked aside in the earlier chaos.

Chiyoko nodded hesitantly. "The toads said—"

"Mommy, the toads are all gone," Katsumi cried in wonder, darting into the living room and then darting out again.

"Would you hold still for one minute," Obito cried, giving chase with a hairbrush.

"I thought you said you were good with small children," commented Kakashi, observing them both as he sat on a cushion.

Obito made a rude hand gesture that Chiyoko decided to ignore as it was made out of Katsumi's eyesight.

Rin ignored them as she washed the party's breakfast dishes.

"They do that," Minato stated. "The toads I mean."

Chiyoko decided to pretend she understood whatever the hell he was talking about.

"So," said Minato, clapping his hands together. "It looks like you're both packed and ready to go, is there anything else you needed to do, any goodbyes you needed to make?"

"Caught you!" Howled Obito triumphantly, carting a giggling Katsumi back into the living room over his shoulder. He plopped them both down on the floor. "Now hold still, I don't want to pull your hair."

Chiyoko shook her head. "No, we've said all our goodbyes already and I didn't want to—"

"Do you want me to dry the dishes too, or can we leave them to dry on the counter?" Interrupted Rin, gesturing to the ceramic plate in her hand.

"The counter is fine," assured Chiyoko.

"You didn't want to what?" asked Minato, prompting her to finish her earlier train of thought.

"Oh," Chiyoko started, nervously fidgeting with an old bracelet of her mother's that she now wore for luck. "I didn't want it to be clear that anyone knew I was leaving or was helping me to leave. I didn't want anyone to be in trouble once we were gone."

"Sensei mentioned something about that," said Minato, crossing the room to look out the window. "He said that we might experience some trouble getting the two of you out. Have you had contact with any Kusa nin since seeing him?"

"We'll make you look pretty as a princess," crooned Obito, pulling Katsumi's locks into a complicated braid as the girl sat patiently in front of him.

Rin giggled. "Here Obito, use these." She handed him a few colorful hair ribbons she'd found in Katsumi's room.

"Oh, thanks!" He chirped.

"Yes," said Chiyoko, pulling her eyes away from the shinobi playing with her daughter's hair. The youngest of the trio, while ignoring his teammates, was listening intently to the adults' conversation. "We had two come by just a few days ago saying that they wanted to talk to Katsumi and I. I told them Katsumi was sick, and they said that they'd be back tomorrow."

Minato hmmed, keeping whatever he thought about her words to himself. "Well, hopefully we won't be seeing them as we leave town. But if we do run into any ninja, please leave the conversation to me. I don't expect things to turn violent, but if they do, my students have orders to see to your safety so please follow their instructions."

Chiyoko nodded, not entirely certain she'd be able to follow the orders of children, but acknowledging that the only time she'd been violent in the last ten years was when her sister-in-law called her daughter names, and even then she hadn't hit the woman hard enough to leave as much as a bruise. That experience wouldn't be particularly helpful, she imagined.

"You should probably get your daughter ready—" Minato cut himself off with a mildly surprised, "Oh."

She turned to see Katsumi fully dressed, hair neatly braided, favorite toy rabbit in her arms and pack on her back. Obito had one hand firmly gripping the handle on Katsumi's backpack. Rin stood a few steps behind him, looking partially bemused and as if she was ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

"See, Sensei," said Obito. "I told you I had this." He looked up at Chiyoko and confessed, "I have, like, a zillion little cousins and since I'm always in trouble, I'm always stuck babysitting."

Chiyoko felt her lips twitching.

"Good job, Obito," praised Minato. "I'd say we were ready to go, but what have you done with your own pack?"

Obito looked around in alarm, before his missing pack was thrust up into his face by his youngest teammate.

"You left it in the kitchen, idiot," grumbled Kakashi.

Chiyoko scowled, deciding it was time to make clear that this type of conduct would not be tolerated. "Kakashi-kun, I understand you're a shinobi even though you're young, so I'm going to do my best to hold you to the same standards that I hold your teammates to."

Kakashi eyed her warily.

"And," Chiyoko continued, "That means that I'll ask all of you to mind your language and refer to each other politely as long as you are in my child's presence, please. And I'll expect her to treat you with the same courtesy."

Obito smirked, smug in the face of Kakashi's stiff displeasure at being reprimanded by a civilian.

"That goes for you too Obito," reminded Minato. "I saw that gesture you made earlier. Please remember the client's request and do your best to behave accordingly."

Obito's cheeks flushed pink and he ducked his head to study the floor.

"It's alright, Chiyoko-san," assured Rin. "I'll keep them both in line."

Chiyoko wasn't sure what to make of the way both boys cringed at Rin's cheerful declaration.

* * *

Rev. 5/2/2016


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Sensei?" Asked the dark haired boy, adjusting his goggles before resting his hands on the straps of his pack.

"Hmmm?" The blond male was preoccupied inspecting the large seal that Jiraiya had painted in the entryway. It was, thankfully, hidden from the sight of someone standing outside. Unfortunately, once they left he was fairly certain that Kusa-nin wouldn't politely wait outside until receiving permission to enter the house from Chiyoko-san's relatives.

"How come, if we came here by toad, we're not going back that way too?" Obito fidgeted restlessly next to his female teammate. Kakashi stood in the corner of the room with his back to the wall and arms crossed, surveying everyone expressionlessly, yet still managing to give off an air of impatience.

Chiyoko paused as she finished writing a letter to leave on the kotatsu, addressing her brother and explaining that she'd accepted a well-paying position as a tutor to some wealthy merchant children in Konoha. She would be in contact once she settled in her new home with directions on how to send the rest of her furnishings to her new abode. Minato had provided the "cover story," but warned her that from now on, she should always write as if her letters would be read by Kusagakure officials prior to reaching their intended audience. It seemed strange that after spending twenty four years as a law abiding citizen she would now be subject to such scrutiny—but, technically, she _was _fleeing the country on the verge of war to sign up her child for service to a foreign and possibly adverse military.

"Well," Minato said, frowning as he slapped a flat palm to the seal, moving it slowly over the wood. "It's really better for us at the moment to be seen escorting Chiyoko-san and her daughter in public as we leave this village."

"Really?" Obito's face scrunched in confusion. Just as quickly, he lost interest in the subject and distracted himself by examining a hanging scroll and the vase of artfully arranged sweet peas nestled under it.

"Yes." Minato licked a thumb and wiped it over the seal, then frowned. "Can you tell me why?"

Obito froze, "Ummm." He looked quickly between Kakashi and Rin, as if hoping one of them might volunteer to answer.

Kakashi ignored his teammate's eyes, but Rin quickly gave in and volunteered an answer.

"Is it because we want Kusa to know that she is coming of her own free will?" Rin pushed a stray piece of brown hair back behind her ear. "We don't want to let them think that we're kidnapping anyone, right?"

"They would think that?" Obito straightened in indignation, scowling as if offended by the very suggestion.

"Everyone knows we're going to war, it's not like we need to give them another reason to hate us, dum—" Kakashi cut the end of the sentence off with a quick glance at Chiyoko's disaproving face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched back further into his corner. He might have been scowling at his shoes. Chiyoko couldn't tell exactly, as the boy's lower face was covered by a black mask. However, she'd seen enough scowling six year olds in her life that she'd bet good money he was sulking.

"Kakashi," Minato began, tone reprehensive, only to be cut off by a tug on his pants. He blinked and looked down into curious green eyes.

"Whatcha doin'?" Asked Katsumi gravely, fingers digging into the fabric around his kneecap.

The teenager gave a small smile. "I'm trying to remove the seal Sensei put up, but I think he was in such a hurry he accidentally made it permanent. And I'm afraid I'm not quite as adept at seals as he is just yet. I'm not sure I can remove it without damaging the wall."

Katsumi frowned. "That's bad?"

Minato sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not ideal. I'd rather Kusa not realize that we were hiding the inhabitants of this house, but it may be something that just can't be helped."

"Oh." Katsumi looked at the door thoughtfully before offering tentatively. "I have paint?"

"That…" Minato trailed off and considered the door for a few moments, "—might just work."

One hastily applied paint job later (which looked like a really strange abstract mural put together by an unsupervised, disobedient giddy toddler, but at least didn't look like a _seal_) Chiyoko and her entourage finally left her small house. She eyed the azalea by the porch with a sad smile. She'd spent years getting them to grow to their current height, painstakingly making sure the soil had just the right amount of acidity. Now she was abandoning them to future owners who'd probably root them out rather than spend the necessary time coaxing them to thrive.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and held her head high as they walked down the streets of the town. She held Katsumi's small hand tightly in her own.

The gaping faces of neighbors and the soft whispers of familiar voices that fluttered in her wake made her belly twist nervously. _This is for the best, _she reminded herself, relaxing her expression as much as she could. _Both for Katsumi and for Hideki-kun. Let everyone think this was a planned move, a choice I made on my own simply based on a better job offer._

She noted several concerned glances from the people they passed; from those who knew her well enough to know how little her family voluntarily dealt with ninja. She was sure that Minato, as he walked slowly at the front of the group, didn't miss the exchange of coins and the subsequent dashes of quick little boys down the streets. He seemed to decide it was best to continue along the planned route. Chiyoko resolved to bow to his supposed experience in these matters and merely strengthened her grip on her daughter's hand until her daughter squeaked about being held onto too tightly.

Still, no one in the group blinked in surprise when they were met by a small cluster of Kusa nin at the town gates. She noted the presence of the two men who'd stopped by her house earlier, but they were now accompanied by two additional members; a serious looking woman and another curious male who bore a familial resemblance to Jiro-san.

Iwao, clearly the oldest of the group by a decade or so, stepped forward to confront their party. The early afternoon sun reflected sharply off his hitai-ate and Chiyoko was forced to raise her hand to shade her eyes, but Minato seemed unaffected by the glare.

"Shinobi-san," said Minato with a polite, shallow bow. "Can I help you?"

Chiyoko nervously looked over her shoulder, noticing the trickling in of the usual town gossips as they gathered under the eaves of the nearest shops. Her eyes scanned the faces quickly, but she saw no sign of Hideki. Another glance at the opposite lane revealed Shinji amongst a crowd of small boys his age, sprawling about some old barrels. Her nephew rubbed his nose, smearing some dirt across his face, but didn't act as if he recognized her.

Rin stepped close enough to bump into her side, bringing Chiyoko's attention back to the men conferring in front of her.

"What business do you have in our country?" Asked Iwao bluntly, eyes flickering over the group, resting a tad too long on both Obito and Kakashi. The boys stiffened under his gaze and glowered back at him, but didn't move for the weapons that she knew they had hidden on their persons.

"We were hired by a client to escort Kinoshita-san and her daughter to Konoha, so that she might take up a position in the client's household." The lie rolled off Minato's tongue easily, sounding so innocent when laid out in front of the inquiring Kusa-nin.

"What position?" Iwao kept his dark eyes trained on the blond teenager.

"She'll be a live-in tutor in the household of a merchant in Konoha." Minato made a show of shuffling through some of the pockets in his vest before removing a slim scroll. "Here," he said, holding out the scroll to the older ninja. "You'll find all the necessary signatures, and the requisite passage documents for legal entry into the country."

Iwao unfurled the document impatiently, quickly skimming its contents. "This was signed two days ago." He frowned and passed the scroll to his subordinates, who clustered together to pour over it with their own eyes. "You expect me to believe this employment was arranged and you were hired and traveled to Takai Bokusouchi within that time period?"

"Believe what you will," Minato shrugged. "But my team and I were on our way home from another mission when we received orders to make a detour and do escort duty for Kinoshita-san. It's been easy enough to accomplish."

The female Kusa nin parted quickly from her teammates and stepped up to whisper something in her superior's ears. Iwao's face could have been made of stone, but his eyes slowly slid to Katsumi and Chiyoko felt that her heart must have been switched with a rabbit's. Katsumi seemed to sense the increasing tension and maneuvered herself behind her mother and closer toward Rin, small fists never loosening their hold on Chiyoko's skirt.

"We stopped by your house two days ago, yes?" Iwao barked out his question.

Chiyoko started when she realized he was speaking to her. She carefully kept herself from looking to Minato for assistance. She didn't need a teenager to tell her what to say. "You did," she acknowledged, letting her fingers rest on top of her daughter's head.

"Why didn't you mention the likelihood of your move at that time?" The older ninja's dark eyes were fierce and Chiyoko felt like prey sitting under the glare of a hawk.

Chiyoko barely refrained from biting her lip, scooping up her daughter, and running back to her house. She swallowed. "This was something I heard about months ago, and wrote to demonstrate my interest in then, but when I didn't hear back from my possible employer I thought nothing would come of it. I didn't receive a job offer until these ninja brought an offer letter to me outlining my duties and compensation." She kept her breathing even, her words light. She couldn't meet the man's gaze, so she tried to stare at the gate past his head. "It's too good a job to pass up. I'll make more there than I could ever hope to make here, and I can better provide for my daughter that way."

The female ninja stepped forward then, pale, wispy bangs framing a deceivingly fragile face. "We could offer you similar opportunities here. We could find you better employment, and make sure your daughter has access to a better education, better job opportunities." The woman's chocolate eyes rested on Katsumi, still pressed against her mother and hiding her face from the group. "Her teachers report that she is quite intelligent for her age—" the kunoichi hesitated, appearing to struggle for the right words. Finally, she pursed her lips and settled for saying, "the girl's medical records also indicate that she has a lot of promise."

Chiyoko pushed down her instinctive flinch. _That doesn't mean anything, Izumi promised she forged them. It's far more likely that this woman is one of those—sensor—people I was warned about and doesn't want to draw Minato's attention to anything if he hasn't noticed for himself yet. _

She looked down at her daughter. "I don't think Katsumi wants to be a ninja, thank you though." _And sadly, that's probably the only honest thing I've said in the last thirty minutes. _She brushed Katsumi's bangs out of the girl's eyes before facing the kunoichi once more.

The woman looked frustrated and Jiro's relative made a strangled scoffing sound, but was hushed when Iwao waved his hand sharply in the air.

Chiyoko closed her mouth tightly to prevent giving into an inappropriate urge to giggle—or maybe it was cry. She wasn't certain at the moment. She'd never wanted to be in this position. She never wanted to be in a spot where she was essentially pitching her four year old daughter's future career potential to what was the better of two militaries, and yet somehow—_That's what you get for indiscriminate sleeping habbits, _said a bright bitter voice in Chiyoko's mind. It sounded suspiciously like her mother's. She imagined it was a cockroach and felt vindictively joyous when her mind conjured up the image of her squashing it flat.

Iwao grunted discontentedly and looked the group over one last time. His subordinates looked equally unhappy with the situation, but none were making a move to physically engage the foreigners.

Rin was still placidly cozied up to Chiyoko's side, but throughout the conversation Kakashi had migrated closer to Minato and Obito was now standing a few inches directly in front of her, hands crossed behind his head.

"You _are_ going of your own free will then?" Iwao bit out, gesturing briefly at the school teacher.

Chiyoko bobbed her head. "Yes, I'm looking forward to the new job." She wanted to add more, something along the lines that it would be better for Katsumi's health, but Minato's blue eyes, gaze suddenly sharp, caught hers and her throat closed up tight.

Iwao grudgingly handed the scroll back to Minato. "Well then, I don't have a legal reason to detain you further." He stepped back, out of the middle of the road and swept his arm out, indicating they should move forward.

"My thanks, Shinobi-san!" Minato grinned brightly, as if the situation had been happily resolved for all parties. He moved on down the road and his genin stumbled after him. Chiyoko stood still a moment, and then moved to follow them stiffly. She threw one desperate glance over her shoulder as she passed under the arch of the gates, but Shinji-kun was gone. Only the four frowning faces of the Kusa nin remained.

Katsumi turned with her mother, inspecting the grimacing shinobi they were leaving behind. "Buh-bye," called the girl loudly, with a smile and a cheeky wave. "Have a good day!"

"Katsumi!" Chiyoko hissed and pulled the girl forward. In front of them, Obito made a choking sound that sounded suspiciously like he was trying not to laugh.

* * *

Orochimaru paused as the sound of the fourth forlorn sigh in the past half hour met his hears. He'd been planning on having the day to himself, to review the latest reports on the genetic testing Danzō had ordered, and perhaps adjust some of his hypotheses.

And then Jiraiya had shown up.

_Isn't that just my life story?_

He set down the petri dish he'd been inspecting and picked up his pencil to make some notations. Both he and Danzō had been hoping to move on to live trials by now, but with Sensei's stance on genetic experimentation in the abstract already so tentative it would be years—

Another sigh.

The pencil snapped in Orochimaru's hands. He blinked at it once. Resentfully.

"Aren't you bored?" Jiraiya questioned petulantly.

"I'm sure there are more entertaining places to be," murmured Orochimaru, refusing to look over his shoulder and encourage his teammate to engage in extended conversation. "I'm not keeping you from finding them."

Jiraiya grunted noncommittally.

The snake sannin carefully set aside the remains of his writing utensil and opened his desk drawer to search for another.

The rustle of cloth alerted him to Jiraiya's increasing moodiness.

"Don't touch," snapped Orochimaru, growing testy himself. What had he done to become the babysitter for Jiraiya's bad moods? Where was Tsunade when he actually needed her to bully someone into good behavior?

"You can't even see what I was doing. I could have been minding my own business." Jiraiya pushed his stool back with the unpleasant screech of metal on tile.

Orochimaru braced himself for company and quickly moved his vials to the far end of the desk, safe from Jiraiya's oafishly large hands, which were suddenly slammed on top of Orochimaru's reports.

"Let's go do something fun," Jiraiya said.

Orochimaru caught his own huff of impatience at the last second. He let the corner of his mouth twist in displeasure as he tried to pull his papers away from the toad sannin. "I don't think so."

"Oh, please?" Jiraiya sagged a bit. "I just need something to distract me."

"You've had quite enough distractions lately; I believe that's what's gotten you into this mess in the first place." Orochimaru firmly jerked his papers away and scooted a few inches to the side, settling down to resume his reading.

"Are you mad at me _too _then?" The white-haired man was taking on a disturbing resemblance to a scolded puppy.

How he _detested_ it when the other man acted so childishly emotional.

Orochimaru lowered the papers, slightly, flicking his own yellow eyes over at one of the two people in the world who referred to him as 'friend.' "I'm not 'anything' at you," said the snake sannin, carefully measuring out his words. "I just don't care to be involved in dealing with the mess you've created, which includes sheltering you from the wrath of any female medic-nin you've offended or 'distracting' you from dealing with the consequences of your actions like any other adult."

Jiraiya visibly wilted, but the stubborn set of his chin told Orochimaru that he wasn't done sulking and wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. _Well, we'll see about that._

Orochimaru returned his attention to his papers, sorting the first few to the back of the stack. After all, it wouldn't do for Jiraiya to actually use the brain he'd been given for a few moments and start reading over Orochimaru's shoulders. "Why don't you go talk with Dan about it? I'm sure he'd be happy to accompany you for a few drinks."

As predicted, Jiraiya's face immediately twisted in a bitter scowl and he thumped the table top with his fists. The vials shook, but thanks to Orochimaru's foresight, nothing tottered off the edge of the desk to meet an untimely end. Orochimaru had relived that lesson far too many times between the pair of his ridiculous teammates to endure such an experience once more.

"Don't mention Dan, I don't want to talk about him" began Jiraiya darkly, the same way he always did when he got started on this topic.

_So easy_. Orochimaru allowed himself to feel a sliver of smugness.

Jiraiya crossed his arms and glared at the wall. "You know, I ran into him the other day and—"

The snake sannin pulled out the next page of the report, knowing it was safe enough to continue his studies as long as he gave the occasional nod and assenting noise.

"—and then the guy said he was _sooooo_ excited to hear about my daughter, like he's going to have anything to do with her. Damnit Dan. Except, of course, he is, because I made Tsunade godmother even though I wasn't thinking of _Do-Good Dan _when I said that—"

"Of course," agreed Orochimaru. It looked like their experiments to manipulate the genes for eye colors were finally reliably successful. Which meant they'd isolated the correct genes for the eyes, and now could broaden their tinkering to see what it would take to achieve dojutsu—assuming the genes responsible for that were in the same location. Which they should be. The current theory was that a dojutsu was just a mutation, but to be able to successfully replicate one by modifying genetic structure they were going to have isolate the mutation. It'd help if he could study the DNA of individuals with dojutsu—how nice such things were easily accessible in Konoha. No one would blink over some strategically missing blood samples from the hospital labs over the next few months. Although, if he wanted them quicker, he could probably volunteer to help in triage for a week or so. Tsunade always did like it when he helped out at the hospital, and it would be good to have her owing him a favor again when he needed fresh materials for substrate.

"—and the worst thing is you can't even be mean to the guy because he's so nice! But, I mean, clearly Tsunade's set on him, which ok, I don't understand at all, but like you've said, it's her choice and if Do-good Dan makes her happy, then so be it. But he's already got a leg up on this parent business because he's got that niece of his that he's always doting on and now he thinks he's setting some kind of example for me and he's gonna be around all the time and-_Damnit _Dan. And why wouldn't my kid like him better than me from the get-go because that's just the way life works—"

"Mmmhh." Orochimaru reached for his pencil as he read, fingers blindly searching the tabletop until he remembered that he'd stored it behind his ear.

"—and hey, did you know I was talking to Sensei the other day, and now I'm thinking we might be stuck with Do-good Dan as Hokage one day?"

"What?" Orochimaru's head snapped up and his yellow eyes narrowed at his companion.

"Huh?" Jiraiya blinked at him, seemingly dazed to have been interrupted mid-rant. "Oh," he shook his head, white mane carelessly flinging about. "Sensei's just getting so tired, you know? And I think he's keeping an eye out for someone to succeed him after this war's blown over."

"And he's thinking of _Dan_?" The snake sannin raised a disdainful eyebrow.

"I don't know," Jiraiya muttered, put-out. "Dan's said he wants it, several times now. And Tsunade will speak for him. But I think he's half hoping that I'll show interest, or you will. But heck, I couldn't think of a more miserable job, and I can't imagine administration getting you hot and bothered enough to tear you away from your experiments."

Orochimaru turned back to his papers, not reading the contents. "I don't know," he murmured. He hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about what would happen once Sensei was no longer Hokage. Danzō would want the position, certainly, but the man was as old as Sensei and he had a feeling his teacher was hoping that the younger generations would step up and take on the heavy mantle of leadership. Danzō had his uses, but he was a bit _outdated_ when it came to envisioning the future.

Orochimaru would have to devote more time to contemplating the matter, it wouldn't do for someone to take on the job who would limit or demand more accountability from Orochimaru and his projects.

Like Dan.

He felt Jiraiya's concerned gaze focusing on him and he withdrew from his thoughts. "I haven't given the matter much thought," he said simply.

"We've all been preoccupied," the toad sannin acknowledged, twisting around to lean his back against the table. "But if it's something you still want, you're actually going to have to leave the lab, you know? Talk with people? Make friends?"

Orochimaru pressed his lips together. Surely that hadn't been Jiraiya's plan to get him outside all along, had it? No. No, Jiraiya didn't think that way. This was just a serendipitous moment. He ought to go take stock of the gossip anyway; see if it really was time to decide if he wanted to pursue Sensei's position or devote himself fully to scientific progress. He wasn't as far along in his own research as he'd like to be, but Sensei was correct in recognizing that he wouldn't live forever.

_At least_, Orochimaru thought, hanging up his lab coat and ignoring Jiraiya's self-congratulatory crowing at dragging him out of the office, _I won't have that same problem. _

* * *

"So," Obito drawled. "Can we go back to Konoha with the toads now?"

"Obito," his teacher sounded harried, shoulders drooping a bit. Katsumi's head bobbed with the dip, but she didn't wake from her impromptu piggy-back nap.

The girl had lasted through about three hours of walking, but early afternoon, about thirty minutes past her normal nap time, her attitude had quickly deteriorated into tired, pained fussing. It didn't help that blisters were already beginning to appear on her feet. Katsumi had never had to walk very far before and her feet hadn't built up the necessary calluses for such a journey. Chiyoko imagined that would change by the end of the trip.

Chiyoko meant to carry her daughter herself. Minato intervened, pointing out that it would hardly faze him to do so, but it would quickly wear out Chiyoko. Chiyoko had to admit his argument had merit, even if she was a bit miffed at his quick (and accurate) assessment of her non-existent physical endurance. She didn't know whether to apologize for the fact that her child was now drooling on the shinobi's shoulder or treasure the internal feeling of passive-aggressive pleasure at the scene.

Minato was taking it like a champ, though. He had to have noticed by now and she hadn't caught so much as a grimace. His youngest student however, clearly disapproved of her daughter's behavior. Chiyoko was going to have to watch what the boy said to Katsumi, something about him bothered Chiyoko. Maybe it was his affect—or lack of it. He clearly had some issues, and whatever they were, she didn't want him taking them out on her daughter.

She tuned back in to the conversation, realizing she'd missed Minato's explanation and that he'd finally resorted to her personal favorite argument, "because I said so."

"Why not," Obito pouted at the front of the group, walking backward so that he could face the group as he chatted. "Toad-travel is so awesome, Sensei!" He enthusiastically 'wooped' and punched a fist in the air.

Rin rolled her eyes from where she kept pace beside Chiyoko.

"Well for one," Kakashi finally contributed, "we're being followed." The omitted 'dumbass' after the spoken statement managed to echo loudly among the travelers for all that it went unsaid.

"No we're not," Obito stuck out his tongue. "I would have noticed by now."

Minato sighed.

"Wait, we are?" Obito ran forward to study the road behind them intensely, only to trip on Kakashi's outstretched foot. He went down with a high-pitched yelp, popping back up with a cloud of dust and trying to unsuccessfully pull Kakashi into a headlock.

"Boys," Minato said sternly.

The two immediately pulled apart and straightened, taking up positions on opposite sides of the road.

"They've been trailing us since we left," reported Rin dutifully. "I'm pretty sure it's the woman and one of the younger guys, but I haven't seen them. They're staying quite a ways back."

"Yes," agreed Minato. "I doubt they'll confront us, but I do think they'll follow us to the border."

"Are we there yet?" Obito looked longingly down the road. He didn't wait for an answer, but turned to give Chiyoko a mournful once-over. "This is going to be a long trip, isn't it?"

Minato laughed softly, gently adjusting Katsumi on his back so she didn't wake. Ok, maybe she _was_ being too hard on the teenager.

"Most clients don't travel at ninja speed, Obito-kun," chided Rin, pushing her hands out in front of her in a stretch.

"I refuse to apologize for my status as a normal human being," Chiyoko contributed dryly, feeling amused when all three children recoiled at the show of humor.

"I didn't mean-," Obito stuttered and his eyes widened. "I just don't get what the big deal is. Why do they want you so bad anyway? You're just a school teacher."

Kakashi snorted. "It's not her they want." He looked meaningfully at the sleeping four year old. "They want the girl."

"Katsumi-chan?" Obito tilted his head as he considered the smallest of the children present. "What for? Why?"

"They want her to be a shinobi." Chiyoko decided to cut off whatever explanation Kakashi was about to give.

"Is that-uhm?" Obito looked even more confused. "Do you think that's a bad thing?" His dark eyes were big and round behind his orange-tinted goggles, his voice small and quiet.

"Not necessarily," explained Chiyoko. "I don't think there is anything wrong with being a shinobi, but I don't like the way Kusa recruits and treats civilian-born shinobi. They don't give their civilian recruits the same training or medical care as their shinobi-born recruits. This makes the life expectancy of their civilian-born shinobi very short."

Rin made a sound of agreement. The boys listened to Chiyoko carefully, but Minato's face was a carefully schooled mask that she couldn't read.

"So, you just don't want her to be a Kusa shinobi?" Obito asked for clarification.

Chiyoko looked forward, wondering how long it would take for them to reach the tree line in the distance. Katsumi's cheeks were turning quite pink after all this time in the sun and Chiyoko hadn't thought to bring sunscreen. She'd have to pick up some in the next town, maybe even a hat, but until then, Katsumi was going to be a little miserable between the blisters on her feet and her sunburned skin. _Poor baby. My mother would never have forgotten sunscreen._

She banished all thoughts of her own mother to the back of her mind and let out a deep breath. "I'd rather her not be a ninja at all, to be honest." It wouldn't do to start her new life by lying. Minato, at the least, was certainly trained to detect deceit. She'd rather be honest than have them wondering what she was trying to hide with her lies.

"Then why are you bringing her to Konoha?" Obito blinked up at his teacher, as if begging him to make sense of the situation.

The school teacher tugged at her bracelet, taking comfort from rolling the smooth, familiar beads between her fingers. "Sometimes you can't provide your child with the opportunities you'd like to, no matter how hard you work or how much you wish things could be different." She gave the dark headed boy a sad smile. "I'm afraid that, for Katsumi, avoiding shinobi life isn't going to be an option. Perhaps things would be different if war wasn't so likely, but—" she trailed off wistfully.

Kakashi stiffened and looked even more uncomfortable, picking up his pace so he could walk at the head of the group.

"I thought parents had to sign off on their children going to the Academy?" Rin asked tentatively.

Chiyoko pretended to be preoccupied finding her water bottle as she answered. "If Kusa decides they want your child for their military, saying no isn't an option. I lost three of my four brothers that way. I wanted better for Katsumi, so I made a deal to get us out Grass Country, and into Konoha. She'll still have to join your military, but she'll be better protected, have better training, have better medical care. I wish I could give her more—the opportunity to decide what she wants to do, to choose who she wants to be. But that's not going to be an option, so I'm doing what I can to give her the best life possible based on the choices that are available."

Chiyoko felt inexplicably drained after finally putting what she was doing into actual words. It sounded so cold, even if it was the most logical decision. The children—genin, she corrected herself, were quiet and subdued after her little speech. Chiyoko watched the dirt and gravel pass underneath her feet.

"Well," Minato cleared his throat, "I think Katsumi-chan will find that there are still many opportunities available to her in Konoha as a kunoichi. And you are right, I may be biased, but I do think that, as far as shinobi military go, Konoha's is the best. And I'm certain we can find a way for Katsumi to be happy there, as well as useful."

Chiyoko nodded wearily, but was relieved from responding when Katsumi pulled Minato's hair and demanded to be let down.

* * *

"I think she'd rather have the pink one," admitted Jiraiya, subtly recoiling from the bundle of fabric Tsunade was pushing up at his face.

Tsunade bit back a snarl. "Blue is a good color. It's a calming color," she managed to get out through grit teeth. Of course the girl would like pink.

"Honey," Dan said patiently, appearing with the pink version of the comforter she was tensely holding. "If she'd rather have pink, you should let her have pink. It's not your room and it's not going to kill her." He handed the requested item to Jiraiya and cheerfully slapped the perturbed looking man on the shoulder. "I'm so glad you asked for help picking out Katsumi-chan's things. Now, have you thought about toys?" Dan grinned, gesturing to the aisles eagerly. "I know Shizune has some ones she's outgrown, but you should probably have some new ones waiting for her too." The sound of his voice faded as he headed back into the bowels of the children's store.

_He doesn't have to be so happy about it._ Tsunade turned her glower from her fiancé, who was far too comfortable hauling about armfuls of fluffy stuffed animals for a trained killer, to her idiot teammate.

"I didn't invite him," defended the man hastily, raising the comforter as if it were a shield.

Tsunade snorted. "You're the one who barged into my office begging for me to help you go shopping for your daughter and her mother. It's not my fault you weren't paying attention to who was with me at the time." For being such a flirt himself, Jiraiya had notoriously bad timing for interrupting other people's affairs. If she didn't know better, she'd say he'd done it on purpose. Dan, of course, was only too happy to drop everything and help a friend in need, especially now that he'd decided to be Jiraiya's personal mentor in this whole 'parenting' thing.

It was only fair to take her revenge by loading up Jiraiya's arms with ridiculously frilly, extravagant items. "Don't forget the pillow cases," she dropped some trimmed with lace on top of the comforter in Jiraiya's arms. "And some throw pillows." Wasn't it convenient that they had some shaped like lady bugs and daisies?

"I feel absurd," admitted Jiraiya, looking at the items in his arms as if they were new and foreign creatures. Tsunade eyed the pillow shaped like a kitten. _Probably overkill_. She understood the feeling though, her own 'toybox' had been full of rubber kunai and occasionally real ones she'd snuck from her grandfather's desk drawers. She was fairly certain that if she'd ever been given a neon orange stuffed dolphin, she would have used it for target practice.

_On second thought, that's pleasingly fluffy. _She added it to Jiraiya's pile. "I heard we got some intel today about skirmishes in Suna." She moved forward down the aisles, leaving children's bedding and heading into the more general décor items.

"Yeah," Jiraiya mumbled, "Sensei's going to deploy three teams 'cuz they're clamoring for aid, but he wants me to head to the capital once everything is settled here. He's more worried about some of the reports he received about Iwa nin still operating within our own borders." Jiraiya stared broodily at a clock shaped like a hedgehog.

Tsunade decided to suspend her disbelief in the veracity of the girl's alleged paternity for a few moments. "They'll be fine, you know."

Jiraiya jolted out of his staring contest with inanimate objects. "What?"

"The girl and her mother," clarified Tsunade impatiently. "They'll get here fine. Minato's a good kid, you taught him well. He won't let anything happen to them on the way here, and he'll find a way to get them out if they got in trouble."

Jiraiya's shoulders relaxed slightly and he smiled. "Yeah, I—"

"Look at these!" Dan popped his head around the shelves at the end of the aisle, beaming, holding out several dresses. "Aren't they adorable? They come with coordinating shoes and purses."

"Are those purses shaped like koi?" Tsunade settled for asking, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the riotous display of color.

"Yes, they get so creative with kids clothes," Dan said happily, adding the items to Jiraiya's pile of prospective purchases. "They're having a two for one sale, so I'm going to go get matching ones for Shizune."

"Right," agreed Tsunade weakly, watching Dan's back disappear around the corner before turning to share a look of bewilderment with Jiraiya.

At least, she thought she would be sharing a look of bewilderment, but Jiraiya was staring forward, lost in thought.

"How does he keep his teeth so white?" mused the toad sannin, brows furrowed.

"No," stated Tsunade. "We're not going there." She gazed around the shelves for a change of subject. "Do you even know what your kid likes anyway?"

Jiraiya cast considering eyes upon a ceramic frog bank.

"No," repeated Tsunade. "Try again."

"Foxes?" The man eventually said, sounding uncertain as he picked up a lamp with the hand not clutching fabric, holding it out for Tsunade's inspection.

Tsunade took the fox shaped lamp hesitantly. "That's cute?" She was guessing. _What's wrong with a lamp being shaped like a lamp? Why does it need to look like something else? I don't get kids things at all,_ she internally grumbled. _Yet another reason I probably shouldn't have any._

They should probably check with Dan.

* * *

"See, the blisters are forming because your shoes are just a bit too small, you've outgrown them recently," explained Rin as she ran a glowing, green hand along Katsumi's foot.

"Mom!" Katsumi leaned forward with a frown, watching the medic nin work intently. "I need new shoes, Mom."

"Sorry baby," and Chiyoko really did feel bad about that. "We'll get some in the morning." Shoes and a hat, she thought guiltily, watching the young girl patch her daughter up. _How was I so busy I didn't notice my own child's shoes didn't fit?_ She was lucky they were able to stop in a small village tonight, and that she'd have an opportunity to get the items the next day.

"It'll be all right," said Rin. "It's actually not too bad, because I can just move the dead skin around to build up calluses. You're lucky skin regeneration is one of the first things they teach us. We can't do large wounds of course, but we start with paper cuts and I've already worked my way up past blisters." Rin sounded proud of her accomplishments and Chiyoko managed to smile gently in return.

"I bet your teachers are very proud of you," commented Chiyoko.

"Yes." Rin nodded, pulling away from Katsumi to shuffle through some items in her own carry sack. "I can't do much for sunburn though, other than the basic medicinal cream I have. I mean, it shouldn't be too different in theory, but they haven't taught us that yet and we're not supposed to try things on our own unless the injury is potentially fatal." She pulled the lid off a jar and a strong herbal smell wafted into the air.

"Of course," said Chiyoko, feeling faint. This was going to be her world now. A world where eight year olds were trained and expected to be able to successfully treat life threatening wounds inflicted upon them and their peers. It had been what she wanted even, hadn't it?

"Cold!" Katsumi squealed, pulling back from Rin's hands.

"Hold still, silly!" Rin giggled, but cajoled the four year into allowing her to put the rest of the soothing salve across her face.

A knock on the door of their room in the inn had all three women turning expectantly toward it.

Minato poked his head in the girls' room with a polite smile. "I just wanted to let you know I'd be heading out for a while—"

Obito squirmed past his teacher's legs and bounced into the room, jumping onto the bed next to Katsumi.

Minato rolled his eyes and pushed the door open fully, revealing Kakashi standing with him as well.

"I'm leaving the boys here, and I want you to stay too Rin," the blond gestured to his female student. "I'll be back in the morning, and I'll need everyone to be ready to leave by then."

"Oh," Chiyoko said. "I'll need to pick up a few things from the shops in the morning before we get back on the road."

"That will be fine," Minato agreed. He made as if to close the door, then paused. "One more thing," he looked sheepishly at Chiyoko. "Would you make sure the boys get to bed at a decent hour?"

"Oh my god, Sensei," gasped Obito, horrified. "We don't need to be tucked in."

Minato leveled them a look that implied he seriously questioned that but wasn't going to point out the fallacy of that argument in public.

Kakashi pretended the room was empty.

Rin just giggled.

"Sure," said Chiyoko. "Not a problem. I'll make sure they're in bed in their own room by nine."

"Nine?" Obito gawped, falling backward on the bed and clutching at his chest in mock pain.

"You'll live," Minato drawled. "And I wouldn't have to do this if we hadn't had that problem the last time we went on an out-of-village trip."

Obito hissed.

"We'll be good, Sensei," muttered Kakashi subdued.

"We'll all be good," promised Rin dutifully. "No one will try to follow you."

"They'd better not," said Minato giving a smile to the boys that felt a little threatening. "And thank you, Chiyoko-san, I appreciate it."

With that, Minato slipped out from the room, to go do-whatever it was he was going to do. Chiyoko just realized she had no idea what the man was headed out to accomplish. And neither did his students, if the mulish, wistful looks they threw at the door meant anything.

Rin stood with a stretch. "I'm going to head to the kitchen to see if they have any soybean oil or sesame seed oil. If they do I think I can make some sunscreen for Katsumi-chan to use tomorrow."

"Really?" Chiyoko perked up, that would be one more thing off her list.

"Yes," promised Rin. "I can show you, it's really simple. Shinobi don't generally use sunscreen because the smells give us away, but it should be fine for Katsumi to use it. We're not in a situation that it would put her in danger. We could use it too if there's enough extra."

"I'd love that." Chiyoko stood in relief, she started to ask Katsumi to come with her, but quickly realized, as she took in the droop of her daughter's head, that the girl would be better off left to rest here.

"I'll be right back sweetheart," Chiyoko bent down and placed a kiss on her daughter's head. "You can go ahead and sleep if you want to." She pulled away and addressed the two boys. "You'll both stay with her right? Until I get back, then you can go to your own room."

"Of course," puffed Obito indignantly. "We can watch her."

Kakashi said nothing, but took the chair by the window.

"Kakashi-kun," insisted Chiyoko. "You won't leave her right? I have your word?"

Kakashi looked offended she insisted on his promise. "She's the mission."

Chiyoko frowned, uncertain as to what that statement meant.

Rin tugged on her hand. "It's alright Chiyoko-san, they won't leave her. Kakashi never abandons his mission and Obito won't abandon his friends." And with that reassurance, Chiyoko allowed the smaller girl to lead her out the door.

* * *

Obito wrinkled his nose at the closed door and pulled his goggles off, twisting them in his hands. There was no need to wear them inside, and no matter how Kakashi acted, it was seriously unlikely Kusa nin were going to jump through the window and try to nab a toddler.

He eyed the yawning girl speculatively. He still didn't get what was so special about her that Kusa would demand she become a shinobi, or that Konoha would want her as one of theirs. She was a sweet kid and all, and seemed bright, but still. Bakashi was bright too and he was a gigantic asshole who'd probably ditch him and Rin if it was easier to accomplish a mission without them.

"Bedtime," said Katsumi simply, snuggling into the nest of covers she was wrapping around herself.

"It was a long day, huh?" Obito prompted the girl, flopping on his stomach on the bed across from her, trying to sound sympathetic. She was much littler than them, after all. And she had no training whatsoever. And really short legs. His own cousins would probably be tired too. Even they would have needed to be carried for part of a day trip like this.

Kakashi snorted.

Katsumi scowled. "You're rude."

Obito stopped chewing on the strap of his goggles.

"And you're a baby," drawled Kakashi disdainfully, not taking his eyes off the window.

"I'm four," recited Katsumi. "You're six. You only have two more years than I do. If I'm a baby, you're not much better."

_She's really well spoken for a four year old_, thought Obito idly, carefully watching Kakashi and wondering how the other boy would handle the comment.

"I'm a professional," corrected Kakashi coldly. "You're an uneducated, inexperienced, vulnerable civilian who is likely to be a liability far longer than it will take for you to actually be useful in the oncoming war. You rely on parents and friends to survive and aren't self-sufficient in the slightest. Your upbringing has disadvantaged you for this career and your investment in emotional ties will only hinder your future endeavors."

_Obviously not well. _"Kakashi," Obito began to warn. _I should really know better by now than to let Kakashi open his trap around clients. And Sensei thinks I'm an impulsive hothead_.

"You're wrong," interrupted Katsumi, looking at them, eyes bright and focused.

Obito felt strange, like the scene was wrong somehow. Maybe it was how calm Katsumi was. Most children her age wouldn't grasp the full implications of such an insult, but they'd know enough of the tone and the words to lash out at the aggressor. She should be crying. Throwing a tantrum.

"I am smart, not like you, but I am." Katsumi defended herself calmly. "And I have experience, even if its in different things than you do. I don't think I'll be a good shinobi, but I never said I wanted to be. I don't need to be a good shinobi to be able to be good at things and be useful. I'm better than you at some things already."

Obito bit his lip, sitting up on the bed and crossing his legs. Ok, so the kid was more advanced than he'd given her credit for being.

"That's ridiculous," Kakashi replied, still watching the window. "And clearly you aren't, because you've become emotional now that I've pointed out your flaws. You're upset and defensive. Ninja don't show emotions. And," added Kakashi, throwing a dark look at Obito, "that means they don't have friends, despite whatever impression Rin has given you."

_What a little punk. _Obito stuck his tongue out at the other boy.

"You're wrong." Katsumi frowned. "I'll show you that you're wrong."

Kakashi stayed silent, apparently deciding he wasn't going to further a verbal spat with a four year old.

Katsumi smiled, and Obito felt a shiver run down his spine. He was glad that look wasn't directed at him.

"In fact," Katsumi said, shuffling about in her bed, laying her head down on her pillow, "I'll start right now."

Kakashi rolled his eyes and Obito looked on, amused.

"Lights out, please, it's bedtime," said Katsumi, voice slightly muffled as she buried her head into the pillow.

Obito gaped, "but it's only seven thirty!" He knew he was whining, but hell, he'd been hoping for a little more time in the light. Judging from the way Kakashi bristled, he wasn't exactly eager to 'go to bed' either.

"You can still play ninja in the dark," soothed Katsumi.

_Play ninja? _Obito puffed out his cheeks. "Hey now—"

"But I'm the client. Minato said so," Katsumi yawned again. "And I say lights out."

Obito deflated, were they really being successfully bossed about by a four year old? Why did she have to be intelligent enough to realize she held some theoretical semblance of power?

"We get to make the decisions affecting your safety," Kakashi stated. "And it's safer for us to watch you with the lights on until your mother returns."

_Right_, _that's right Kakashi, you tell her—nrghhh! _ Obito was not agreeing with Kakashi, he wasn't. He didn't want to bow to the whims of a four year old, either. He was going to eat his goggles.

"Lights out or I'll scream," said Katsumi sweetly.

_Little shit_, Obito thought, scowling at Kakashi as their eyes adjusted to the dark, waiting for Chiyoko-san to return.

* * *

"Now?" The male ninja muttered the words low, shifting his weight impatiently from foot to foot as he crouched with his partner in the shadows of the inn's neglected garden.

"They're not sleeping yet," murmured Azami, as still as Jiro was fidgety. "I want the boys to be in their own rooms when we go in." They'd been over this before, several times. The plan was simple, slip in, get the girl, and be long gone before anyone noticed.

"What if Babysitter comes back?" Jiro hissed, eyes trained on the dark windows.

"He won't," reassured Azami. Jiro was always uncomfortable when he wasn't in charge of the plans. He liked loud, noisy, and noticeable. Which was exactly why Azami was taking the lead tonight. They'd been wandering over town all afternoon, whispering in the right ears to make sure there were enough 'plants' to keep the lead Konoha nin busy for hours. Babysitter had barely been gone forty five minutes. The children would all be sleeping soon, and by the time everyone woke in the morning, she and Jiro would be far enough from the group that, even if they were suspected, it would be impossible to catch up to them before they had the girl securely secreted away. With his own charges safe and unharmed, and the girl's mother still present to take to their client, Konoha wouldn't be able to press for the civilian child without breaking their alliance.

Of course, if they were caught with the girl before they could squirrel her away, Kusa would be in breach themselves. But that wasn't going to happen. All they needed to do was wait.

"I think I've got gravel in my boots."

Azami didn't react, she'd had ten years of tolerating Jiro's inability to stay still for two minutes. It would take more than that to get a rise from her.

Jiro plopped on the ground to shake out his shoes, peering into them suspiciously when no small rocks tumbled forth to appease him. "I don't see why you and Sensei think we should grab her," he began to lace his boots up again. "Or, if we are going to the trouble of grabbing her, why we aren't taking the other kids too."

"Because that would be an act of war," repeated the kunoichi patiently. "Those children are already pledged to Konoha's military, and one of them is an Uchiha. We aren't trying to get the country razed before the war even begins. The girl is still legally ours, for the moment. If she wanders off here, Konoha has no grounds on which to demand her return."

Azami wasn't the most powerful ninja, but she had honed the small skill set she did have to perfection. It was why she was so perfect for the recruiting missions they'd recently been assigned to, much to the dismay of her two male team mates. She could tell the women were coming back upstairs, and the boys separated to head toward their own quarters for the night. _Not long now_.

Kusa wasn't like Konoha, they didn't have the resources in their population to pull from to create a large and intimidating shinobi force. It wasn't fair for Konoha to be stealing promising children born in other countries for their own already significantly superior forces. Whether the mother truly was leaving for work or not, eventually someone in Konoha with an ounce of chakra-sense would notice the girl. That child had too much chakra to come from two civilian parents. To Azami's senses, the child practically glowed compared to her age mates. The mother was a school teacher, but the father must have been a ninja. Azami didn't care about the particulars apart from that fact. She'd been sent to find children like this one, and she wasn't going to let them slip through her fingers when she did.

"They're sleeping," she relaxed her shoulders. Compared to the waiting, this was the easy part. She pushed Jiro down when he tried to rise to his feet alongside her. "I can nab a sleeping toddler on my own, don't worry."

She left Jiro spluttering in the garden, with orders to keep an eye out for Babysitter, but she pulled out a small bottle of ether from her vest pockets, just in case.

* * *

Rev. 5/2/16

Thanks to ElectraSev5n for bouncing ideas around for these chapters and helping me polish up things to be presentable!


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't until Chiyoko came back from the restroom in the middle of the night the she realized something was wrong.

She hadn't been fully awake when she stumbled to her feet with the feeling that something was off, believing it was her bladder and solely focused on addressing that issue. By the time she left the bathroom, the cold wooden floors were making her regret the decision to shed her socks prior to bed and she was trying to convince herself that she was still feeling ill at ease only because she was in a strange place, was leaving the country of her birth, and her toes were turning blue.

That worked until she lay back down and rolled over, throwing out an exhausted arm so that she could thread her fingers through her daughter's hair. Instead, her hand fell upon an empty pillow. She moved her fingers about, but when she didn't come into contact with a whining four year old she shakily sat up and blinked her eyes open.

"Katsumi-chan?"

The only sound that met her ears was the soft breathing of the female ninja, coming from the other bed. Chiyoko tossed back the covers and then went and tossed Rin's too, for good measure.

"Katsumi?!" She cried again, much too loudly for the middle of the night.

Chiyoko spun around the room, lifting blankets and pillows and bags, not quite sure why it was suddenly so hard to breathe.

She didn't notice the lights coming on.

Or the door opening.

Or the voices increasing in number and volume and—

"Chiyoko-san!"

The voice was accompanied by a cold sensation, like water rushing over her head. Chiyoko blinked tears back from her eyes—_When did I start crying?—_to realize that Rin was gripping her face with two green hands.

"You have to breathe, Chiyoko-san," stressed Rin, the concerned glint in her brown eyes betraying her calm tone.

Chiyoko realized she was on the floor, back against the wall. She drew in a deep breath and tried to focus on the conversation. Panicking wasn't going to help anyone.

"She's not in the common areas," confirmed Obito, bursting into the room, sounding serious.

Rin kept her hands on Chiyoko, but looked toward her male teammate. "Do we wait for Sensei?" She bit her lip. "Do we go find him?"

Obito punched the wall in anger. "We don't have time," he growled.

"No," agreed the youngest ninja. Kakashi strode into the room with a pack thrown over his shoulder and Obito's shoes, which he promptly tossed into the older boy's face. "We don't."

Kakashi's hands twisted into some strange patterns and with a puff of smoke—

There was an oddly adorable little grey-brown dog in the room with a smushed face.

Katusmi would have loved it.

Chiyoko waved Rin away when the girl turned to the choking woman.

"Pakkun," said Kakashi, looking sternly at the dog. "Our four year old female client has gone missing." He knelt down and held out Katsumi's rabbit for the canine to sniff.

Pakkun sneezed and backed up a few steps, stumbling in the awkward way of a dog not quite out of puppyhood. The three children watched the dog intently as it snuffled about the room, ignoring the human occupants and coming to a stop under the window.

"Woman," said the dog. "Up the window."

Of course the dog could talk.

"Out the window," corrected Kakashi. The six year old hesitated. "Not Sensei?"

"No," confirmed the dog, rolling its eyes. "_Woman_, up the window."

"_Out_ the wind—"

"Let's go then," said Obito, slipping his goggles over his eyes.

Kakashi looked thoughtfully at the floor for a second, before nodding and grabbing his own pack. "The girl's the mission, but Rin should stay with Chiyoko-san and brief Sensei when he returns."

Chiyoko scrambled to her feet. "I'm coming too!"

"No," rebuffed Kakashi, not even looking in her direction. "You'll only slow us down." And with that the boy scooped up his dog and jumped out the window, Obito hot on his heels.

Chiyoko might have tried to tear after them anyway, not really one to take being bluntly rebuked by a six year old sitting down, but Rin caught her arm as she whirled to run out the door.

"No, Chiyoko-san," said the girl as she pulled her back into the room. "As frustrating as it is, they really will be faster without you."

Chiyoko glared at the child, not caring how apologetic the girl sounded.

"It's best for us to stay here," soothed Rin, taking Chiyoko's wrist in a gentle grip and shepherding her to sit on an empty bed. "I can keep guard for you and we can alert Sensei as soon as he comes back."

Chiyoko swallowed her hateful words, angry at Minato for leaving, at Rin for being reasonable, at the idea that two children were now the only individuals capable of returning her own child. When had she started taking orders from children? When had she lost so much control over her life? Mothers were supposed to keep their children safe, and even though she'd been trying her best, she'd failed. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and folded in on herself, keeping as still and as tight as possible; refusing to let Rin see her weep.

_No._

"Screw this," Chiyoko said, voice hoarse.

"Eh?" Rin gave a surprised squeak.

Chiyoko stood, rubbing the wetness from her eyes. "Pack up, we're following your teammates. Your Sensei can catch up on his own precious time."

* * *

They were on the outskirts of Kinoko no Mori forest, and from there Kusagakure was only half a day's run. It was late afternoon, and the orange of a sunset was just beginning to spread across the sky. Jiro grunted and shifted the bundle in his arms when Azami came to a sudden stop in front of him.

He wondered how likely it was she'd let them take a break in Saigo no Nozomi, the middling sized village at the edge of the forest and the only signs of civilization they'd see until they were in Kusagakure proper. He would literally kill for some onigiri. They hadn't been prepared to leave for a mission when ordered to follow the Konoha-nin and he'd not even had field rations to eat over the past day and a half.

"What's wrong?" He had to ask, because heaven knew the woman wouldn't tell him anything unless he begged for it.

The blonde pursed her lips, shading her eyes with a hand as she studied the horizon line. "The babies are following us."

Jiro groaned. "They must have woken up earlier than you thought then, and that means Babysitter won't be far behind either. Or is he with them too?" He really didn't want to be the one to tell the Kusakage that they'd picked a fight with a team from Konoha. The whole point of this plan was that no confrontation would happen between the two teams, but if the babies followed them to Kusagakure itself—

"No, it's just the babies. The two boys, I think. I don't sense their Sensei anywhere; he must be a few hours behind." Azami was fiddling with some of her pockets, checking the contents. "Give me your rope; I didn't carry any with me."

"Are we going to confront them?" Jiro asked, setting his cargo down. The little girl stood on her own feet shakily, reaching out to steady herself by grabbing his leg. He let her. Poor thing had woken up an hour ago and promptly been sick all over Azami, courtesy of her ether-induced nap.

It hadn't endeared the girl to Azami any, but it was entertainment enough for Jiro. The kid had been quiet and obedient enough after regaining consciousness that they'd decided they didn't need to knock her out again. She hadn't even asked for her Mom, which was a bit strange, considering how clingy she'd been with the woman the other day. _Probably just disoriented. I'm sure she'll start piping up soon enough and then I'll be praying for the time I scared her enough to keep her trap shut. _He tossed the coil of rope he kept in his pack to Azami.

"I'll go back and see what I can do to deter them," Azami said, securing the rope. "We can't have them following us to Kusa, but I'll be careful not to hurt them enough to warrant Konoha's retaliation." She slid into some stretches, trying to loosen up a few muscles. "You go on ahead, I don't want to take the risk that Babysitter is closer than I think he is."

"Right," agreed Jiro, resigned long ago to the fact that Azami would deny him of any fun the moment the possibility came into existence. "Have a good time! Be careful with the Uchiha, I hear they're fun little fuckers!"

Azami gave no reaction to his sarcasm as she flashed off into the distance. _Typical_. _Nii-san would have at least given me the finger for that one._ He sighed, and looked at his newly acquired extra limb. Dazed green eyes looked back.

"Can I have some water?" The kid wrapped a long strand of her hair around her fist timidly.

Jiro's stomach growled. "Sure," he shrugged, eyeing the smoke from Saigo no Nozomi rising in the distance. It was only a half hour detour, and then another half hour for a stop for food. "Why the heck not," he swung the kid up into his arms and took off. _Kid's probably hungry too. Don't you have to feed them pretty frequently? _

Of course, by the time they made it to the village, found a place to eat, ordered food, and Jiro was three bites into the BEST TEMPURA EVER, the kid had to go the bathroom.

Jiro looked at his food longingly, it was even hot—

"I have to go _now_," said the girl with a bit of a whine and strange twisty-dancing movements, bare feet kicking against her stool.

He had the feeling he'd regret it if he didn't accommodate her. "Yeah, yeah," he began to push his stool back. "Ok, I'm coming."

"Nu-uh," said the girl, looking at him incredulously. "I can go myself. Besides," she scrunched up her nose. "You're a _boy._" The look she gave him made him feel like a dirty old man, and so did the stink eye he was getting from the waitress listening in on the conversation. She hadn't seem particularly overjoyed to be serving a full grown shinobi accompanied by a little girl in sleeping attire, but had taken their orders quietly enough. He shrank back down to his food, which was the only thing not judging him in this joint. "Whatever." He'd done nothing wrong. _Other than the whole kidnapping thing. On second thought, _he pointed to the restroom. "It's right over there, you've got five minutes. And no messing around!"

By the time he finished his meal and his stomach no longer felt like it was eating itself, the girl still wasn't back.

"Hey kid," he knocked on the door, voice gruff. "I said no messin' around." He pressed his ear against the wood. He heard water running, but no answering childish voice. He cursed under his breath and tried the handle—locked.

Ramming the door with his shoulder yielded a satisfying crunch of wood, but also some annoying screeching from the waitress about having a key if he'd just asked. He ignored her, as well as the low bellows of the cook beginning to sound from the kitchen.

The room was empty, but a small table (conspicuously cleared of the vase it had once held) underneath an open window hinted as to what had happened to his charge.

"God-fucking-damnit," he swore, before tearing out of the restaurant; ducking a platter tossed at his head and the yells of the proprietors demanding payment for property damage and meals and other much less important things than escaped kidnapped toddlers.

* * *

_What drugs is this kid taking?_ Obito huffed, focusing on keeping up with Kakashi's speed. He swallowed his curses, before remembering that Chiyoko-san wasn't with them at the moment and he could once again be as colorful and uninhibited with his language as he'd like. The Uchiha's face was bright red, and he was dripping with sweat, but he refused to say anything and admit that a six year old was both quicker and had more endurance than he did. A six year old and his _puppy_.

_Ugghh,_ _I'm really going to have to take cousin Masaru up on those extra training sessions_. He gulped down some water, thankful he'd thought to fill that up the night before or he really would have been in trouble. According to Pakkun (or at least, Bakashi's interpretation of Pakkun's words—the dog was learning, but wasn't exactly fluent in people-speak yet), they were a few hours behind a duo of Kusa nin—a man and a woman, probably the two that Sensei and Rin had noticed were following them yesterday. They weren't gaining on the pair (_stupid short little kid legs)_, but they weren't losing as much time as Obito thought they would have either. Probably because Bakashi was trying to kill him by inducing heatstroke.

Obito had no idea where the pair were headed with Katsumi-chan, but Kakashi seemed to think it might be Kusagakure itself, which really would be a mess. Obito didn't know how successful they'd be spiriting Katsumi-chan away from a hidden village, but he was sure Sensei would think of something.

Or, miracles might happen, and they could actually catch up to the two miserable excuses for human beings who thought it was ok to take a kid from the arms of her sleeping mother.

Dirtbags.

With a sharp yip, Pakkun tried to come to an immediate stop and instead tumbled head over heels and flew forward five feet. His summoner and Obito skidded to a stop beside the dog, Obito breathing heavily and leaning on his knees.

He was pleased to see that Kakashi appeared to be sweating as much as he was, even if his face wasn't red.

"Woman this way," barked the pug, retreating behind the gennin. "Much fast."

Obito gulped and pulled out some kunai, but he didn't have time to do anything else because suddenly the blonde they'd met the previous day was in front of him, lashing out with a hook kick that Obito barely managed to duck with a strangled yelp.

Sometimes it sucked to be the visibly older target, meaning he was always going to get engaged before Kakashi. He popped back up to deflect the following punch with a kunai.

"Doton: Arijigoku!"

But then, it did give Bakashi the opportunity to pull off stunts like that. Obito jumped back from the twisting, sinking pit that sucked their opponent into it in a quick second; the woman's head the only thing left above ground, her dark eyes glaring at them furiously.

"I totally had that," squawked Obito, inwardly too relieved the fight was over to complain _that_ much about Kakashi stealing his opponent.

Bakashi scoffed and fished Pakkun out from under a bush. "We should get going; that won't hold her long."

The woman said nothing as they leapt forward, Pakkun once again taking the lead.

"That was a bit anti-climactic, no?" Obito called out, worried the encounter had been just a bit too easy. No matter Bakashi's confidence, they were only months-old at this whole ninja thing, and that woman was, supposedly, a jōnin with at least a decade on them. Well, okay, Bakashi technically had a whole extra year on them, but he was still _six_.

"She was trying to make sure she didn't hurt us, and she underestimated me." Kakashi's words were muffled by the wind and his mask, and Obito had to strain to hear them.

"She wasn't used to holding back, or fighting children, and those factors put her at a momentary disadvantage," continued the youngest ninja. "If she'd truly wanted to harm us, she would have."

"Right," said Obito flatly, ignoring the chill that went up his spine at the reminder that most foreign ninja wouldn't hesitate to attack them with intent to maim or kill. He was a soldier, from a military family, but that fact of life still slipped his mind at times. He'd been 'playing' ninja as long as he could remember. It had only recently dawned on him that this whole ninja thing wasn't a game, but how he was going to live the rest of his life and, most likely, how he was going to end it.

Fortunately they didn't need to hurt the Kusa-nin either. It was just a race at the moment. If they got to Katsumi before she reached Kusagakure; they won. Neither side wanted to physically harm the other. That would be a formal breach of the current alliance. Obito wasn't too hot on politics, but from his Uncle's rants at the dinner table, he'd gathered that Kusa was allies in name with Konoha and wasn't ready to throw that away just yet.

Which was a good thing; Obito wasn't sure he could have stomached slitting that woman's throat. He glanced at his silent teammate. He bet Kakashi could have. And for some reason, the latter bothered him more than the former.

Pakkun slowed as they came upon a small village an hour or so later. The sun was fading in the sky, dark reds and purples bleeding together above their heads. Pakkun sniffed hesitantly, snuffling back and forth across a few streets, confused.

"What's wrong," Obito asked, lifting his goggles briefly to rub at his tired eyes, wanting nothing more than to sink to the ground.

"Man all over," admitted Pakkun. He looked up at them and blinked his hooded eyes in confusion, nose still twitching.

"Still here?" Kakashi asked, voice low, shoulders tense.

"Fresh," agreed Pakkun, before trotting off at a moderate pace down one of the side streets.

Obito straightened up as a spark of hope flared to life in his chest.

Some type of commotion was taking place in front of a house with a large porch, several people waving their arms and yelling. A large man with a frying pan was poking it at the chest of-

"YOU!" Obito howled indignantly, breaking into a sprint and running into the middle of the crowd.

He could feel Bakashi sighing behind him, but couldn't bring himself to care that much. He'd had enough of running all over Grass Country on this strange chase.

The civilians in the group fell into silence at the interruption of a child marked with the hitai-ate of a foreign military, blinking curiously at the turn of events.

Obito jabbed his finger in the chest of the flustered jōnin he'd seen the other day, the partner to the lady they'd just stuck in the mud with a C-class doton (and he'd have to quiz Kakashi on where he picked that up later, because the brat had been learning raiton, not doton last time he'd checked).

"Where is Katsumi-chan, huh?" Obito growled out, glaring up at the man twice his size.

"Who?" the Kusa nin had the nerve to sound confused.

"Katsumi-chan, retard!" Obito hissed and held up his hands to indicate her height. "She's this tall, has brown hair, green eyes and you took her from her Mom, you Ass, so where is she?" He stomped a foot in anger, which seemed to amuse some of the surrounding crowd, but whatever.

"I don't know what you're talking about," sniffed the Kusa nin, crossing his arms and looking away.

The large man with the frying pan gave a loud guffaw and pulled at his beard. "You've been running around town screaming about the girl for the past hour!"

The Kusa nin gave the man a dirty look. "I have not."

"Yes, you have," contradicted a young woman with a shrill voice, nervously half-hiding behind Frying Pan-san's shoulder. "You lost her at the restaurant and you've been tearing through town, breaking people's things without care—"

"You lost her!" Obito gaped at the man. "What kind of fuckin' kidnapper are you? She's four!"

Obito was fairly certain that if the man did have a dojutsu that it would have manifested as a death glare, but fortunately Obito (theoretically) still held the only trump card in that field.

Well, if Katsumi-chan was missing somewhere in this town then he and Kakashi just had to find her first, and they'd won. Technically, they could just stalk Kusa-nin until Sensei showed up and then find her, because Kusa wouldn't visibly interfere with the mission—right?

_Wait, does that mean we've already won?_

"Go home, Kusa-nin," Obito straightened with boyish bravado. "We've won this round. You can try your hand at kidnapping another day."

The civilians shifted uncomfortably at the accusations being tossed around.

Obito noticed Kakashi was sitting on the porch, short legs dangling in the air and not quite reaching the ground. Pakkun was cuddled in his arms. _Not that Bakashi would ever call it cuddling._ Obito trotted over to join him.

The Kusa-nin ground his teeth. "Where's my partner?"

Kakashi looked blankly at the man. "Who?"

"Yeah," nodded Obito, scratching his chin in an exaggerated, mocking gesture. "Don't know who you're talking about."

The Kusa-nin clenched his fists and looked like he very much wanted to punch Obito's head off, which was an expression with which Obito was intimately familiar. But, instead, the man merely swallowed whatever he wanted to say and stalked off down the road, cursing under his breath. The majority of the civilians went their own ways as well, a few following the Kusa-nin and whining about doors and money. Another group only retreated to a few houses away, casting suspicious glances at the foreign genin and talking in low tones.

Obito and Kakashi relaxed on the porch, their only company an elderly woman who had been content to knit throughout the entire argument without reacting to any of the raised voices. _She's probably hard of hearing, like Aunt Keiko._

"Heh," Obito smirked, kicking his feet and basking in juvenile satisfaction. As soon as the Kusa-nin was out of sight, he turned to his teammate. "So, are we gonna' look for her now or let her stay hidden until Sensei gets here?"

Kakashi shrugged. "She's right here."

"What?" Obito asked flatly, turning his head sharply left and right to see if he missed anything.

He heard movement behind him and he twisted sharply, only to see a familiar mop of brown hair appear from underneath the blanket draped over the elderly woman knitting in her chair.

"I'd give that a C minus," said the four year old with a pout, crawling out from under the chair and plopping onto the porch. She turned to give older woman a hug. "Thank you, grandma!"

"You're welcome, dearie," said the elderly woman, patting the child on her head with an absent-minded air before returning to her craft.

"What?" Obito repeated.

Katsumi rolled her eyes. "You're late."

"We had to take a break for a mud bath," Obito explained automatically. "You ok, Katsumi-chan? Your Mom was awfully worried."

"Puppy!" The girl squealed, barreling past him with a burst of energy and scooping up Pakkun from Kakashi's lap.

The younger ninja blinked in surprise for a moment, and then turned cherry red and hissy.

"Pakkun's not a pet!" Kakashi uncurled with a scowl.

Katsumi cooed over the dog, which quickly melted into the girl's surprisingly adept massage. "You have such cute paws!"

"Oh," Pakkun twitched and then licked her nose. "Like you."

"No you don't." Kakashi's eye twitched. "You're a ninken, you don't make friends."

"I'll be your friend, Pakkun," Katsumi crooned. "I'll sneak you treats, and give good belly rubs, and you'll make sure no one ever sneaks up on me, right?"

"Deal," yapped Pakkun, already on his back and twitching in pleasure at the promised belly rub.

"No deal," corrected Kakashi, fussing. "You're my ninken. You don't make deals with strange girls, I don't—" Kakashi abruptly seemed to realize he was the summoner in the situation and cut the chakra connection with a twist of his wrist. Pakkun disappeared in a poof of smoke.

Katsumi blinked at her empty lap, and then her façade of maturity crumbled as the events of the day caught up to her and she burst into tears.

"Oh, good going Bakashi!" Obito hissed, turning to swat at his sulking teammate. "You should've kicked the puppy too while you had the chance!"

Kakashi dodged, of course, and stiffly sat at the other end of the porch with his arms crossed, glaring out at the world.

As if to echo Obito's mood at being found the mediator between an overwhelmed four year old and a six year old's smarting pride, the skies suddenly began to pour.

"Great," muttered Obito as he scooted back further under the awning.

"Now, now Katsumi-chan," soothed a familiar voice. "Everything is going to be fine."

Obito whirled around, startled, and stared at the blond man who was now holding the little girl.

"Sensei?" Obito blurted out, bewildered.

Twenty minutes later, three ninja and a four year old were safely ensconced in a booth at a local restaurant. Katsumi was dozing in Minato's arms with the occasional sniffle and the two boys sat across from them. Kakashi was straight and tense, as if waiting for a reprimand; Obito just scratched his nose, ducking his head sheepishly.

"Kakashi-kun," Minato inquired, "don't you have something for Katsumi-chan?"

Kakashi frowned and then blushed, turning around to reach into his pack and pulling out the stuffed rabbit that he'd carried to help Pakkun keep locked on the right scent. The bunny was a bit dusty from being routinely dug out on the road as Pakkun still had trouble keeping scents for more than a few hours at a time, but it was obviously a welcome sight to Katsumi-chan. She clasped it tightly to her chest and turned back to bury herself against Minato's side, wrapped in a blanket leant to them by the kind elderly woman whose porch they'd crashed. The grandmother wouldn't let them leave without it when her clouded eyes finally noticed that Katsumi was wandering about town barefoot and in a nightgown.

"Let's debrief," said Minato cheerfully.

"We're," Obito darted a quick glance at Kakashi. "We aren't in trouble?"

"I don't think you are," Minato sounded bemused. "Especially considering that I was monitoring the entire situation. I just want to hear why you decided to handle things the way you did and then discuss what you might do better next time."

_That's a bit off,_ Obito tilted his head to the side considering his teacher. Beside him Kakashi curled in on himself a bit. _He was—he let it happen as a training exercise? That's not what he's saying, right? _Obito straightened, narrowing his eyes. "Are you saying you were aware of what was happening the entire time? That you saw them take Katsumi and didn't do anything?"

Sensei grinned. "Well, I was hoping one of you might be awake to stop the Kusa-nin, since technically you'd been left to guard our charge—but yes, I was aware of the Kusa-nin and what was going on. I thought it would be a good learning experience."

Obito wilted slightly. _I guess that's exactly what he's saying._

Kakashi made a noise of embarrassment deep in his throat, probably at the belated realization that they should have had somebody on watch, even in an inn. Textbook failure, that error.

Obito, however, could only gape at his teacher for an entirely different reason. _Learning experience? _Katsumi was four; no matter how mature or intelligent she was this was bound to be traumatic for her. And certainly it had scared Chiyoko-san half to death.

"Is something wrong, Obito-kun?" Minato looked genuinely concerned.

Obito snapped his mouth shut and leaned backward. "I'm not going to be the one to tell Chiyoko-san that you let her daughter get kidnapped because you were 'playing mama cat teaching kittens to hunt.'"

Kakashi was giving Obito the 'what barrel of idiocy did you just crawl out of' look, but Sensei actually stilled for a moment, as if trying to think through the reasons why Obito might say that. Then the older blond flushed a bit, running the hand not cradling Katsumi through his hair in a nervous habit that he usually only indulged when his crazy girlfriend was around. "Maybe we won't tell Chiyoko-san about that part of things."

Obito tilted his head back, hitting it against the back of the booth. _Sometimes it's hard to remember that as awesome as Sensei is, he's only eighteen. _

"Cookies," muttered Katsumi-chan sleepily.

Minato made a confused noise and looked down at the child they'd all thought to be done in for the night.

"My silence for cookies," Katsumi clarified, still clinging to Minato, face buried in her stuffed toy.

Minato frowned. "I—"

"She's totally serious," Obito nodded. "And I agree, if you don't want us to talk, you better put out for dessert."

Minato gave him a funny look, but complied readily enough.

Obito was on his third stick of dango (Bakashi refused to eat his because he was Bakashi), when Rin and Chiyoko-san stumbled into the place, looking thoroughly soaked, miserable, and as if their legs might give out from under them any second.

Obito paused, dango dangling from his mouth. They'd not expected the girls to follow them. They'd just planned on travelling back to meet them tomorrow. _Guess Chiyoko-san was impatient._

With a cry of her daughter's name, Katsumi was bundled into a weeping Chiyoko's lap. She cradled her daughter and promptly collapsed on the floor, shaking badly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Chiyoko mumbled repeatedly, unable to do much more and refusing to uncurl from the protective ball she'd formed around her child.

"Ahh, Chiyoko-san," Minato stuttered, looking alarmed. "Everything really is fine!"

Chiyoko hiccupped and shook her head, continuing to rock her child and shiver miserably.

Obito gave Sensei a knowing look and tried to mimic his oldest Aunt's most disapproving sniff, pleased to see that the man actually had the decency to look a bit embarrassed about the situation. God, sometimes he felt like he and Rin were the only socially competent people on this team.

Rin's teeth chattered as she made pleased noises at seeing them before excusing herself to a restroom to change clothes. "I'll be back to run some basic diagnostics to make sure Katsumi's not been hurt or exposed to any poisons," she said calmly, before ducking out of the room.

Chiyoko broke into a fresh wave of tears.

_Scratch that_, _clearly I'm the only socially competent person on this team._

Obito stepped forward to soothe the woman, because obviously no one else in this shit storm knew how to properly give basic comfort to other human beings.

He caught Katsumi's eyes as she peeked out from under her mother's arms and nearly laughed when he realized the kid looked _utterly_ exasperated.

* * *

"You mean Sensei had bunshin on us the entire time," whispered Rin softly, brown eyes wide and a frown marring her pretty face.

She and Obito were gossiping in the back of the store, while Chiyoko shopped for new shoes and a hat for Katsumi. They'd stayed the night in the strange town on the edge of the weird forest. Sensei even let them sleep in, because the girls were all so worn out. By the time everyone had risen to greet a new day, Chiyoko had collected herself and decided that the best way to combat yesterday's events was to carry on as if nothing had happened. This apparently meant shoe shopping.

At least Sensei was sticking around this time, twitching in a vaguely guilty manner whenever Chiyoko turned around to thank him, yet again, for 'rescuing' Katsumi-chan every fifteen minutes.

"Yup," Obito chirped. "He's a mean, mean man."

Obito caught his teacher's sideways glance and ducked his head with a grin. He had probably just volunteered to taste-test Kushina-san's next cooking experiment, but sometimes one had to live on the edge.

Minato made a gesture which essentially meant 'be right back' and stepped out of the store. He was probably going to check on the cart they'd arranged to carry them to the next town. Chiyoko-san had literally run the skin off her feet yesterday trying to catch up to them. Rin had healed what she could, but the new skin would be tender and Rin said the woman should try to stay off her feet for the next few days. Obito bravely repressed the desire to check the windows for invading Kusa-nin now that Sensei had slipped away for a few moments. Surely Sensei wouldn't do the same thing twice, right? His eyes flickered to the store windows involuntarily.

"Well," Rin hesitated, as reluctant as always to doubt a superior's judgment. "At least everything turned out all right. He did point out some things we need to fix, and if he really was on hand to fix anything the moment it went wrong—"

Obito gave a rude snort and let his eyes wander over to where Kakashi was 'keeping guard' at the door. Katsumi had spent the entirety of breakfast begging for Pakkun to come back and Obito was pretty sure Kakashi was thirty seconds from climbing a tree to get away from the brat. Bakashi didn't seem to know how to handle someone he couldn't fight, or learn anything from, or even ignore. Katsumi made it very clear that she considered making a 'spectacle' a small price to pay for getting her way.

He pulled out the box of pocky he'd bought earlier and stuck one in his mouth, enjoying the chocolate as he wondered how long it would take for Kakashi to realize that Katsumi's goal wasn't actually to see the dog (although he was sure she'd be perfectly happy to do so) but rather just to drive the emotionally constipated kid crazy. Just because she could.

Katsumi wandered over to him to show off her new shoes and Rin joined Chiyoko, who was haggling (quite shrewdly from the sound of things) about prices.

"New shoes!" Katsumi beamed, twirling around.

"They're gorgeous," Obito said, nodding sagely. He had three older sisters; he knew that whenever any girl showed off new accessories that was the only acceptable answer.

"Want one," said Katsumi, green gaze calculating as she eyed the box of pocky, latching onto his shirt.

"No way," Obito drawing the box back, "you had a ridiculous amount of sugar last night, and I'm pretty sure your mom would say no anyway." He tried to escape the kid's clutches, but she was an inexplicably clingy little thing. He was beginning to think that part of her master plot for world domination was hugging people to death.

That might actually work on Bakashi.

Green eyes widened innocently. "You said new words yesterday."

"I said what?" Obito wracked his brain, what had he said yesterday around the kid? He'd talked with Sensei, and with Chiyoko-san, but hadn't he said—

"You said it to Kusa-ninja-san," recalled Katsumi, looking as if she was thinking hard to remember the details. "You said what kind of fuc-"

Obito smothered her mouth and desperately looked over his shoulder, making sure Chiyoko-san and Rin were otherwise occupied. He swallowed and returned his attention to the four year old, grimacing.

"That's not nice," he hissed.

Katsumi held up two fingers.

"What?" Obito was about to lose to a four year old, again. Life just wasn't fair. Weren't super smart brats supposed to be rare in the population, statistically speaking? How come he seemed to be routinely harassed by more than his fair share of them?

"That's a two-pocky word," Katsumi leveled a grave look up at him.

"One word, one piece of pocky," snapped Obito, surrendering the candy.

Katsumi held out her hand. "Not when it's cho-co-late," she sang.

Obito felt his eye begin to tick involuntarily. "Fine," he grumbled doling out one more. "But that's it."

"Thank you," she smiled sweetly up at him and skipped away.

"You're welcome," he called out loudly after her, before adding under his breath, "you little dem—"

"Is everything fine, Obito-kun?"

Obito gave a squawk of surprise and jumped a few inches in the air. He held a hand to his heart as he calmed back down again. "Don't do that to me Rin. I think I lost a few years."

Rin giggled.

"We can only hope," drawled Kakashi darkly.

Obito jumped again, but hid it better this time. At least, he was going to claim that he did.

"What's wrong?" Rin repeated, ignoring their youngest teammate's rude commentary. "You looked upset."

Obito watched as Chiyoko dropped a hat onto her daughter's head and rubbed the sunscreen that she and Rin had made across the girl's cheeks.

"I take back everything I ever said about her being a sweet kid," Obito moaned falling limply against some boxes. "She's clearly the spawn of evil."

Rin glanced at Katsumi, who was hopping about with the unrestrained energy of a four year old with too much sugar. She furrowed her brows. "Don't be mean Obito, she hasn't done anything to you. I thought you liked her; you've been so good with her."

Obito couldn't even bring himself to perk up at Rin's compliment. He was pretty sure they'd been roped into babysitting some evil genius child who had declared war against Kakashi. Obito had the sinking feeling that he was going to get inconveniently, and frequently, caught in the crossfire of the campaign.

Even worse, Kakashi had yet to realize that he'd made an enemy and that lines had been drawn and alliances were forming. He'd lost his dog with Katsumi's promise of treats (Bakashi really should work with Pakkun on that one, any respectable ninken ought to have slightly more resistance than that), he'd lost Rin to the joy of being older teacher/sister/mentor (and some secret pact that girls seemed to have which said they would always side with girls over men), and Obito was pretty sure he was being successfully blackmailed over his inability to hold his tongue.

Katsumi caught his eyes as she looked over her mother's shoulder and gave him a crooked little grin.

_Oh no_, Obito thought, mentally bracing himself for whatever her next move was going to be.

He was relieved when the door of the store chimed and Sensei strode in, catching everyone's attention.

"Are we all ready to head out?" Minato cheerfully addressed them, hooking his fingers into his pockets.

"Yes," said Chiyoko, rising to her feet. "I think we all have everything we need; including a good night of sleep."

Obito huffed. _It was a wonderful night of sleep if you didn't have nightmares about demonically clever four year olds promising 'they'd show you.' Whatever that means._

Katsumi toddled toward Minato, gripping the brim of her new hat and beaming up at him. Obito allowed himself to relax, confident that the girl would behave in front of Sensei.

"Minato nii-san, look at my new hat!" Crowed Katsumi, twining about Minato's legs.

"It's lovely, Katsumi-chan," said Minato indulgently.

_Wait—_

"Nii-san?" questioned a voice.

It took Obito a second to realize that Kakashi had been the one to pose the query, not him.

"Katsumi-chan," sighed Chiyoko, sounding as apologetic as any mother trying to correct their offspring's social blunders. "You can't just go around calling people—"

Katsumi's face scrunched up in protest. "But Daddy said I could call him—"

Suddenly Katsumi was being balanced on Minato's hip and his free hand was gently covering her mouth. "Nuh-uh, Katsumi-chan," said Sensei with a shake of his head. "Let's not talk about that here, ok?" He adjusted the girls weight on his hip and turned to Chiyoko. "She can address me this way. It's fine, I promise."

Chiyoko pursed her lips, a conflicted expression crossing her features. "It's awfully familiar and we've only known you a few days. I'm sorry if it's bothersome."

_But she's not saying that it's improper for Katsumi to call him that because he's not a relation. _He filed that thought away for later as Sensei waved off Chiyoko's concerns.

Rin darted out of the store ahead of them all as Sensei held open the door for Chiyoko.

"Aren't you two coming," Minato called back over his shoulder, unable to crane his neck to look at them because Katsumi was clinging to him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Her green eyes danced as she faced the boys.

"Let's go, nii-san," she cooed happily, locking her eyes purposefully with Kakashi's.

Obito glanced at the younger boy.

Kakashi's left eye twitched. Then he set his jaw and moved forward in that tense posture that meant he was supremely unhappy with the world.

Obito hid his snicker in his fist. _And there goes Sensei, that's check Kakashi._ God, the kid had cut him off completely in two days. And what was even sadder was that despite being a genius, Kakashi was too socially inept to realize he'd been boxed in, much less that he'd already suffered significant losses to the younger girl in any way that mattered.

_You know, as long as Kakashi is the 'enemy,' this might not be too horrible a show to watch._

Obito trotted after the group, enjoying the irritation in Kakashi's narrowed eyes and wondering if he might be able to convince Katsumi-chan to let him join her little war. _If you can't beat them, might as well join them._ He nodded to himself, deciding to ignore the fact that he was essentially acknowledging the superiority of children half his age.

* * *

"Who _is _your Daddy, Katsumi-chan?" Obito asked at lunch, unable to restrain his curiosity any longer. No one had ever accused him of being subtle, after all.

Katsumi picked at her onigri as she sat next to him, pulling out various pieces of vegetables that were apparently offensive. Or diseased. Or guilty of being the color green, if you asked her about them.

Kakashi straightened a bit, leaning toward them with badly hidden interest.

Katsumi opened her mouth to answer, but Sensei cut her off with a displeased sound.

"No, no, Katsumi-chan," Minato said, shaking his head and motioning her to come over to him.

Minato swallowed a bite of his own lunch and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Rin and Chiyoko, who'd been chatting about the differences between their country's respective school systems.

"Now that we've lost our Kusa-nin escort and have crossed the border, we should probably have this talk." He pulled Katsumi to him so that he could balance her on his leg and look her in the eyes, probably trying to impart the gravity of the discussion to the child. "Daddy is classified, Katsumi-chan, do you know what that means?"

Obito scoffed, he'd bet his allowance what that kid knew could fill scrolls.

Katsumi just tilted her head to the side and let her eyes widen. "Classified?" She made a show of sounding out the word, as if she hadn't had an opportunity to say it yet.

_I wonder how long she's practiced that look in the mirror, what a little actress._ He glanced at Kakashi from the corner of his eyes, but Kakashi was focused on whatever Sensei's explanation was going to be.

"Yes," nodded Sensei, "that means that you can't tell anyone who he is. There will be people in Konoha who will know him, and we'll introduce you to them and tell you it's ok to talk to those specific people about him. I'm one of them, and there will be a handful of others. But outside of those select people, you are _not _to tell anyone _who _your Daddy is."

Katsumi's pout was immediate. "Why?"

"Because," drawled Minato, tapping her on the nose and winking. "Your Daddy has made a lot of people mad over the years and you don't have a big ninja family to keep you safe. So, one of the ways we're trying to keep you safe is by making sure that not a lot of people know about you."

Obito felt relieved; at least she wasn't one of his clan's 'accidents' then. Her eyes were green, of course, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. However, if she were one of theirs, they'd be bringing her to the compound. And probably without her mom, the clan was weird about that.

"So," continued Minato, "think you can keep it as our secret? Just between us for now, right?" He tickled the girl as she giggled her assent.

Obito watched her carefully. She seemed like any other four year old at that moment, happy and playful and content to do what the adults told her to do. She had all the characteristics that made grown-ups normally dote on children, and none of that too-intelligent gaze that made a chill run up his spine occasionally.

Kakashi looked perturbed by Sensei's words, but didn't appear to be considering Katsumi as an individual who might be capable of challenging him one day, or as a future comrade. Chiyoko's face was far too blank and she held her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Rin looked on in concern for her newest, youngest charge, biting her lip like she always did when she was upset.

Minato glanced up, suddenly much more serious. "That goes for all three of you, as well. I've been given instructions not to tell you about the identity of Katsumi's father, but I'm sure by now you've drawn some conclusions. Correct or incorrect as those conclusions may be, I ask that you keep them to yourselves. I've no doubt that you'll eventually figure things out on your own, especially as I don't expect our contact with Katsumi to end once we've reached Konoha. If you say things where you shouldn't—"

"I understand," blurted out Obito. Sensei only ever felt the need to spell things out like this because of Obito, even though he was the oldest. Gosh, he got it, seriously. He was the one with a coveted bloodline that could be removed from his body and transplanted in others, after all. The Uchiha clustered together as a 'big ninja family' for a reason. He didn't need this spelled out for him. Rin clearly already understood from the way she watched Katsumi, and Kakashi had a notorious father himself. The brat lived with Sensei for good reason.

"We understand, we won't say anything," repeated Obito, calming down a bit.

"Good," said Sensei, relaxing as his teammates echoed assurances.

Of course, that didn't mean that Obito wasn't dying of curiosity about the identity of Katsumi-chan's mysterious other parent. She looked so much like her mother that trying to narrow down the candidates based on her physical appearance wouldn't be helpful at all. And, unlike most other four year olds, Obito highly doubted he was going to be able to coax the answer out of her with a bribe of candy. That plan was pretty much out the window when your target was pre-emptively manipulating you into giving away your material for any bribery.

* * *

_Tomorrow we'll be back in Konoha. _Obito was almost giddy at the thought, eagerly working with Rin to set up camp one final time. Sensei had planned their route carefully, probably because of how young Katsumi-chan was. They'd only stayed outside once before on the entire trip.

Obito and Rin weren't complaining. Bakashi did, once, but Minato had said something about bringing Katsumi-chan home with a cold not being worth it. And then he'd _shuddered_. Obito didn't entirely understand, but if whatever Sensei worried about was enough to make him shudder, Obito wanted no part of it. Maybe Sensei was just trying to be extra cautious after letting Katsumi-chan get kind-of-sort-of kidnapped and scaring Chiyoko-san half to death and messing up her feet.

Obito got the fire started with ease as Kakashi and Rin quickly collected enough firewood to last the night. Chiyoko and Katsumi found some wildflowers nearby, and Katsumi was entertaining herself by braiding together frail chains from the blossoms. She draped one around a giggling Rin's neck, and the next found itself around Obito's after a few begging looks from the girls. He felt a bit silly, but Katsumi and Rin both beamed so much when he finally caved in that he didn't regret his decision for long. He was such a sucker for little kids. Sensei got the next one, and he put it on with an easy grin that made Obito feel more confident about displaying his own new accessory.

After dinner, Chiyoko kept them entertained with folk tales until her voice went scratchy and she pled for a rest to drink some water. Somewhere along the road, Katsumi had decided Obito was her favorite hair stylist, and he busied himself brushing her hair and braiding it. He stuck some of her flowers into it so she could match the rest of them when she asked. _She really is a sweet kid when she wants to be—_

"I'd make you a chain, Kakashi-kun, but you have to admit that you're wrong," Katsumi's sing-song words easily carried over the crackle of the campfire.

_-And so not sweet when she doesn't. _Obito watched Sensei blink himself fully awake upon hearing the words. It took Obito a moment to realize that Katsumi had managed to coax everyone in the clearing into wearing flowers except the youngest ninja.

Kakashi paused as he sharpened his kunai. "I wasn't wrong."

"Wrong about what?" Asked Chiyoko-san idly, browsing through her pack for something or another, probably her sewing kit to mend the rip Obito had made in his shirt (again). She didn't even ask Obito if he'd torn his clothes any more when they made camp for the night. She just held her hand out and gave him a look if he denied anything needed mending. It made it only a little better that she treated Kakashi the same way, to the point of huffing and searching through Kakashi's pack for his clothes herself as Sensei just laughed at the boys' shared indignation.

"Kakashi said," and Katsumi straightened, pulling away from Obito to turn toward Minato. "He said that he was a professional. And that I was uneducated, inexperienced, and a vulnerable liability because I was too emotional and had friends."

Chiyoko paused and raised her head. "Excuse me?" She looked between Katsumi, who gazed at Kakashi expectantly, and Kakashi. The youngest ninja darted a frightened look at Sensei, which for Kakashi was basically an admission that yes he had said something like that and 'oh please, Sensei save me.'

Obito coughed nervously, deciding it might be best to try and defuse the situation. "Yeah, he did say that," he said casually. "But I'm pretty sure we all know that you're smart, Katsumi-chan. And that Ba—err, Kakashi has weird values. You don't want to be like him anyway."

Kakashi glared at him and Obito held his hands out in a 'what do you want from me' gesture.

"He doesn't," said Katsumi, narrowing her eyes. "He still doesn't think I'm smart."

"Of course, he does," interrupted Minato, probably trying to soothe whatever tantrum Katsumi was working herself into. "Tell her Kakashi-kun." Sensei's tone commanded obedience.

Kakashi's gaze flitted to Minato and then to the fire, which he stared at steadily before muttering an unenthusiastic, "You're smart."

Katsumi scowled with all the offended ferocity her four year old self could muster. "Then you know you're wrong, and you should admit it!" She turned to Minato to complain, pointing her finger accusingly at the youngest ninja. "He's lost and he won't 'fess up!"

Minato gave Kakashi a stern look and Kakashi held his spine stiff in an effort to deny the existence of reality.

"What has he lost?" Minato beckoned the girl over to him.

She glowered up at him with dark green eyes. "I told him that I was better at some things than he was. Not ninja-y things, but that I was still smart and could be better than him at some things."

Well, that was vague and unhelpful. Sensei apparently thought so too, because he tried to coax out a better answer, leaning over so he was eye level with the child. "What are you better at than him?"

Katsumi sniffed. "Making friends."

_Ouch_. Obito flinched. He'd even seen that one coming and it still hurt.

Minato's gaze flickered over to Kakashi, who was, as predicted, fuming silently.

"Katsumi," scolded Chiyoko, finding her voice. "That's mean. I'm sure Kakashi can make friends just as well as you can."

Obito caught Rin's eyes across the fire and they exchanged dubious looks.

"I'm pretty sure he sucks at it," Katsumi said flatly.

"Katsumi," Chiyoko's tone grew low and stern. "You apologize right now."

"I won't," bit out Katsumi. "It serves no purpose."

"What?" The school teacher sounded as if she dreaded the explanation.

"People apologize in recognition that thye've done something wrong by offending another person, because they've hurt somebody else's feelings," elaborated Katsumi waspishly. "'Kashi-kun has publicly stated that as a shinobi, he has no feelings. It is not possible for me to hurt that which doesn't exist. An apology serves no purpose, it's an un-nessary waste of time."

Obito wasn't going to snicker, he wasn't. Laughing would be immature and childish and not ninja-ish at all. He tried very hard to hide his amusement and looked at his youngest teammate. "Well," Obito said thoughtfully. "She's got you there, Kakashi."

"Friends aren't important," insisted Kakashi, practically hissing in his fury. "Shinobi don't have friends."

"False." Chirped Katsumi, twisting around to survey her audience. "Three out of four of the shinobi on this mission are now my friends; there is a seventy-five percent likelihood that you are incorrect." Katsumi peered at him from around Minato. "Or do you think Minato-nii-san is wrong?"

Kakashi gripped his knee and focused on the ground, so tense he was practically vibrating in anger.

"Oh," Katsumi furrowed her brows. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to _upset_ you. You seem so _defensive _are you ok?"

Kakashi stormed off as Katsumi echoed the boy's words from their first conversation. Or, stormed up, as it were, into the obscuring branches of a tree.

Katsumi relaxed, suddenly appearing perfectly calm and happy. "I win!" She cheered and ran over to the base of the tree up which Kakashi had fled.

"I'm so sorry you _feel _this way," she yelled up into the branches as she leaned against the bark of the trunk. "I hope one day we can still be _friends_!"

"She's four?" Rin asked the group, confused.

"I'm so sorry," babbled Chiyoko, wringing the clothes she'd been mending anxiously. "Most days she's fine, but some days are like," she gestured helplessly with her hands, "_this_, and then I have no idea what to do about her."

"Oh no," wheezed Obito, giving in to his snickers even though he could feel Sensei's disapproving gaze upon him. "She's perfect like this, I love it. Can she be the team mascot?" He tried his best to keep a straight face. "I'm totally in favor of her being the team mascot. We can keep her, right Sensei?"

Sensei rubbed his head, looking bewildered as Obito continued to giggle nonsensically, Rin twisted her hands nervously, Katsumi demanded that she and her rabbit receive another bed time story, and Kakashi refused to come down from his tree.

_This is going to be so much fun. _

* * *

Rev. 5/2/16

Thanks to ElectraSev5n for looking this over and helping polish it up!


	6. Chapter 6

"Seven minutes and thirty seconds….and now, seven minutes and forty-five seconds," Obito narrated, keeping his eyes on his watch as he walked backward down the trail, facing the three 'contestants.'

Rin and Kakashi and Katsumi walked forward slowly, faces gathered in intense concentration. The girls each held their arms out as if to assist with their balance; Kakashi had his crossed, emphasizing just how much he believed this exercise to be beneath him.

"Eight minutes now." Obito looked up with a grin. "I'm adding on another leaf!"

Chiyoko watched as the energetic boy added yet another leaf to the forehead of each child.

Rin and Kakashi maintained steady paces, but the four year old bobbled.

"Careful, Katsumi-chan," cheered Obito. "You've got this!" He resumed his timekeeper role with a bounce. "Eight minutes fifteen seconds—"

Rin looked unperturbed, but Katsumi's lips were beginning to curl down in her 'I'm about to lose' pout.

There was a certain smugness in the way the youngest boy's dark eyes narrowed, despite the fact that he had so vehemently protested participating in the game. Kakashi had dismissed the notion that Katsumi might beat him in a 'chakra control' activity as ridiculous (and it probably was), but Obito's taunts had roped him into participating.

Chiyoko slid her gaze to her adult companion. "Should they really be doing this?"

Minato acknowledged her with a slightly distracted smile—the one that didn't quite reach his eyes and left her uncertain as to whether he was actually entertained or just humoring her. He shrugged. "It's a basic exercise. There's certainly no danger in it for my students, but I'll stop them if it looks like Katsumi-chan is getting too tired." He turned his attention back to monitoring their surroundings, as if from studying the thick forest they were travelling through he could ascertain vital information.

_Maybe he can. _

Chiyoko sighed, not feeling reassured by the group leader's words. A bead of sweat, due more to the humidity than actual exertion, trickled down her face. She couldn't wait to get out of these stifling woods and feel a breeze. And it was far too silent, eerily so. It wasn't the first time she'd been in an area like this—Grass Country had woods too. Just…the trees weren't so tall, not dense enough to block out the sun or to keep the air from circulating.

Even the vegetation here was alien, so unlike anything in Izumi's herbal textbooks that she sometimes borrowed to show to her own students. The flowers were exotic and bright, the berries strange blues and purples. For an area teaming with plant life, it was odd there weren't more seeds on the ground. Maybe it just wasn't the right type of year for that sort of thing. It's not like she was a botanist. But—what she'd give to see a pinecone right now. Or, you know, an actual pine.

They weren't even on a path anymore. She didn't see any signs telling them where to go—the ninja were just walking as if their destination had been ingrained in their innermost beings. It was almost as if she was in a labyrinth. If her guides left, she'd have no idea what to do, where to go—

The sound of bodies hitting the dirt and Obito's cackle of laughter had her spinning about to face the children.

Kakashi and Katsumi were in a tangled heap on the ground, leaves scattered carelessly across their clothes.

"Nine minutes and fifteen seconds for Kakashi and Katusmi," Obito announced, voice upbeat.

Kakashi scowled and pushed the brunette off of him. "That doesn't count, she fell on me!"

"Not on purpose," countered Obito.

"Katsumi-chan," Chiyoko scolded as she picked up her toddler and brushed the dirt off her outfit. "Did you trip Kakashi-kun?"

"I dunno," Katsumi replied, looking entirely too innocent for her answer to be honest. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I slipped."

"See," Kakashi crossed his arms with a huff. "She even admits it!"

"Admit what?" Katsumi asked, blinking up in surprise at the six year old. "This means Rin-chan wins, right? So, you have to show us the puppy!"

"No!" The white-haired boy bristled. "That was only if _you _won—"

"Actually," Obito tapped his chin. "I do believe the agreement was 'as long as _you_ lost,' Kakashi." He smiled far too widely at his teammate. "The winner wasn't specified. And since Rin's still going—"

The girl in question giggled, beginning to pick the leaves off her head. "I guess I do win, then! Where's Pakkun-chan, Kakashi-kun?"

"Sensei!" The youngest ninja bristled, turning to address the group leader. "This is sabotage! And conspiracy!"

"Nuh-uh," Katsumi sniffed dismissively as she pulled a leaf out of her hair. "Besides, you didn't say those were against the rules."

"Technically she's right, Kakashi." Minato rubbed the back of his head. "You didn't specify that cheating was against the rules."

Kakashi gave an aggravated huff and stomped to the front of the group, ignoring Katsumi's chants of "puppy, puppy, puppy" as she skipped at his heels.

"It doesn't need to be explicitly said," argued the boy. "It's just understood that it's not an acceptable tactic—"

"A shinobi should use any tactic to ensure the success of their mission," recited Katsumi.

Chiyoko blinked. She'd not heard that before—but from the set of Kakashi's shoulders this must be another one of those rules he'd taken to quoting to the girl outside of her hearing.

Kakashi clenched his fists in his hair and whirled on the small girl. "You're not a shinobi!"

"And I'm already better at the rules than you," she latched onto his arm and crooned up at him sweetly.

The youngest ninja's shoulders shook as he vibrated in silent anger.

Chiyoko wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or—well, she certainly recognized the signs of an eminent violent tantrum from a six year old. Perhaps it was best she intervened to ensure her own child's continued physical well-being.

She pulled Katsumi away from the boy, her arms aching as she picked the girl up and rested her on her hip. "Let's not antagonize the ninja anymore, ok sweetheart?"

"Ok," Katsumi agreed, suddenly and unexpectedly compliant. The energy dissipated from her daughter's limbs; she sagged forward in her mother's hold and wearily laid her head on Chiyoko's shoulder with a yawn. "I still wanna see the puppy," she grumbled, fist tightening in her mother's yukata.

Chiyoko darted a wide-eyed gaze of concern at Minato, but the man just laughed.

"Looks like she wore herself out," the blond crossed his arms behind his head. "Don't take a nap just yet Katsumi-chan. We'll be at the Village gate in just a minute."

"Here." Rin was at the school teacher's elbow, holding out some type of bar of food that Chiyoko had seen the shinobi munching on during their journey. "Have her take a few bites of this; it'll perk her up a little."

"Oh, thank you," Chiyoko murmured. She let the kunoichi unwrap it and offer it to Katsumi.

Katsumi took the bar and gave it a tentative bite. "Ick," she contorted her face in displeasure, sticking out her tongue.

"At least three bites Katsumi-chan," Rin insisted in her favored 'obey me I'm the medic' tone.

Katsumi whined weakly in protest, but ate as instructed when her mother echoed Rin's commands.

Chiyoko was attempting to stow the half-eaten bar in her pack (no easy feat while also juggling a small child) when Obito gave a loud 'whoop' of pleasure. She looked up-and up-and up even more at the huge wooden posts that were now before her. She craned her head back, feeling her hair slip further out of its messy bun, trying to make out how high the wall went.

"Wow," said Katsumi, voice small and eyes large.

"The gate's just down there," Rin helpfully pointed to the right. Chiyoko's eyes followed the girl's hand to what looked like it might be an opening in the massive wall—it was hard to tell from this distance.

"The Village is in there?" Chiyoko marveled at the massive feature. "How many trees make up this thing? How was this even created?" She walked up to one of the posts, each wider than her arm span and weighing more than what could be lifted by a dozen men. She tentatively reached out a hand to touch the wood. Katsumi mimicked her, petting the structure as timidly as she might the neighbor's grouchy cat.

"The wall's really old," observed Obito. "It's been there forever."

"It was created by the Shodai Hokage, when his clan founded Konoha," lectured Minato. He ruffled his oldest student's hair fondly. "It's been added to over the years, so some sections are newer and made out of more modern materials, but the wall itself now encircles the entirety of Konoha."

"Tall," observed Katsumi, looking up again at the height.

"It helps keep the Village safe," elaborated the jōnin. "And it forces everyone to enter and exit through one entry point, so we always know who comes and goes from the Village."

Chiyoko closed her mouth and smothered a grimace. She'd never lived somewhere she'd been forbidden from leaving. Even now, if war wasn't on the horizon, no one (aside from Hideki and a few close friends) would have thought it strange for her to pack up and leave. Nor would they have tried to keep track of her travels. She hoped there was still space inside the Village—that it wouldn't feel like she was living in a shoebox with thousands of people. What was it going to be like to walk through that gate and know she'd probably never come out of it again? Or at least, she wouldn't be coming out with Katsumi-chan. They might let her go without blinking. She wasn't exactly sure what Jiraiya's position was within the Konohagakure hierarchy, but her daughter's paternity probably got her put on a list or something.

She clutched Katsumi tightly as they approached the gate, refusing to put her down out of fear that Katsumi would run off after something new or sparkly or loud. She didn't want chasing after her willful toddler to be the first impression this Village had of her. Minato's team had seen far too much of that by now, even though they'd been more than good-natured in assisting her with entertaining and corralling the bored child.

The sounds of other humans began to trickle to her ears. A caravan of merchants, dressed in bright colors and riding wagons pulled by slow moving oxen, passed them as several paths converged into one wide road as they walked up to the great gate doors— made of the same strange, solid, heavy wood she'd noticed making up the wall a few minutes ago. Minato grinned at some of the shinobi accompanying the large party, giving a quick wave of recognition and jogging forward to briefly exchange greetings with the men.

Obito ran on ahead, past his teacher and through the gates, to what looked to be a gatehouse. He slapped his palms down on the counter and launched into chatter with some teenagers manning the station. Rin and Kakashi followed them at a more subdued pace. Chiyoko felt the gravel crunch under her feet as she paused beneath the gigantic archway, Katsumi unusually quiet in her arms.

The schoolteacher looked back at the forest, the darkness of the thick, oppressive trees not so frightening now that she'd emerged from their grasp alive and, seemingly, victorious. But was her choice one that would keep her family safe and alive, or would it be the one that ended it?

"Everything alright, Chiyoko-san?" Minato came to stand by her shoulder, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Chiyoko couldn't find the words to communicate her feelings. Her throat felt thick and there was an unbearable pressure in her head building up. She closed her eyes tightly. She refused to cry right now—over a decision that was already made, couldn't be changed, and had yet to bring about any negative consequences—except for that sense of grief and loss that she couldn't quite chase away.

The blond's eyes softened. "It will be alright, Chiyoko-san." His voice was low and buoying. "I know I'm slightly biased, but Konoha really is an amazing place. There are so many more opportunities for you and Katsumi-chan here than there were in your hometown." He put a gentle hand on her back, prompting her to step forward. "I know you're brave, and if you just keep drawing on that strength you've shown recently, I'm sure you'll soon have built a life here that's just as rewarding as the one you left."

Chiyoko forced herself to nod—and then soft, small fingers on her cheek drew her focus back to her daughter.

"Don't be sad, Mommy," murmured the little girl, green eyes round with worry.

Chiyoko took the child's hand and kissed it. "I can't _really_ be sad, if you are here now, can I?" She asked, the words coming out thick and rough. Katsumi hummed in agreement and snuggled against her. Chiyoko let herself take comfort from cuddling her child as she followed Minato over to the gatehouse.

"This is my cousin, Masaru," introduced Obito, pointing to the man with dark hair. "He's a chūnin, and this is his, umm—" Obito broke off, scratching at the back of the head and looking at his cousin's sandy haired companion. "Who are you again?"

"I'm Mari, you moron," the girl snapped in irritation, rolling up the paper in her hand to swat the back of Obito's head. "I've told you a thousand times."

"Sorry, sorry," the boy protested fiercely, skipping out of her reach. "Anyway, she just passed the chūnin exams—"

"Kashi-kun's a chūnin," chirped Katsumi, with the joy of a child pleased to use a new vocabulary word.

An awkward silence settled over the group and Kakashi squared his shoulders, refusing to be embarrassed by the attention.

"Yeah, well," said the new female with a sniff. "Some of us actually have to work for our ranks."

Masaru grimaced at Obito and the younger boy shifted his weight uneasily.

Minato cleared his throat loudly. "It's nice meeting you Uchiha-san, Mari-san, but I need to escort my charges to Hokage-sama and my team is probably ready to go home after such a long trip. If I could just get back the immigration paperwork, Uchiha-san?"

"Oh, right," blinked Masaru, flipping through the papers in his hands before hastily handing them back to the older shinobi. "Looks good to me. Nice to meet you all."

"Yeah," agreed Mari, unwinding slowly as she examined the team's tired, civilian charges. "Welcome to Konoha and all that. Enjoy your stay."

As they walked away from the gate, Chiyoko took some time to observe her new home. It wasn't as packed as she feared, despite being almost ten times as large as her previous village. Minato said that almost 60,000 people lived here, and that around 16,000 of those were ninja. Which really, wouldn't that make it quite large for a _Village?_ Just the shinobi population of her new home was more than double the population of the places she once lived. She could barely imagine that many people in one location-and all contained behind one giant wall, with no room to grow.

But, as she began to follow Minato and his students into the Village, she noticed that it didn't seem that crowded. In fact, it seemed light and open, almost as if she were strolling through a park. Trees, as expected, were everywhere. There weren't many buildings close to the wall, although now that she was behind it she could see that the wall itself was thick enough to probably have rooms inside of it, and there were various sets of stairs and platforms haphazardly winding up and across it from every angle. However, once inside the barrier the gravel path turned to stone and very quickly they begin to come upon other structures—multi-story buildings of wood and plaster and tile that did their very best to incorporate the tree-scape. It was hard to tell if trees were sprouting out of buildings or if the buildings were sprouting from the trees, but either way—the overall effect of the architecture made her feel as if she was walking through one of Katsumi's bedtime stories.

The innocence of that notion was quickly destroyed as she noticed people jumping over their heads, hopping rooftop to rooftop and scurrying this way and that. "Do—" she hesitated, and quickly resolved to ask her question because how was she ever going to learn the rules here if she didn't. "Do the ninja travel on the rooftops and the civilians on the roads?"

"Mmm?" Minato followed her gaze upward. "Oh no, ninja use the roads too. But when we're in a hurry we tend to take to the rooftops." He turned around to grin at her. "It's not that we prohibit civilians from using the roofs as a roadway; it's just really not a safe idea for them."

"Oh." Chiyoko watched as the crowds began to thicken, the buildings grew taller, and the trees more sparse as they headed toward the population center. Large crowds of men and women shopping for food or hawking household appliances mingled without hesitation or fear with just as many men and women in military uniform. At home, the groups tended to avoid each other, but here no one seemed to have a problem interacting with the other stratum. Civilians and soldiers engaged in conversation without overt signs of fear or disdain appearing on the features of either party.

"We're on the main road now," Minato elaborated with a wave of his hand. "It goes directly from the gate to the Hokage's Tower, which is where we're headed. Although," he mused, "someone once said all roads lead to the Hokage and that's mostly true for Konoha when you think about it. We wanted ninja to be able to get quickly to the Village Leader when they needed to do so—"

"Can we go home," Kakashi bit out the words impatiently, sulk hidden behind his mask but given away by the hands gripping the straps of his pack far too tightly. "Or do you need us to check in with you?" Clearly, he wasn't engaged by his teacher's tour.

Minato frowned apologetically at Chiyoko before turning to address his students. "Well, I'd like you to stay, but if you need to go you can—"

The blond blinked as the youngest vanished with a whoosh of white hair.

"As I was about to say," the jōnin slumped forward in irritated resignation. "I hope you'll stay and accompany Chiyoko-san and I to the tower, because I'd like for someone to wait with her while I report for us to Hokage-sama."

The team medic nin smothered her smile in her fists. "I'll stay, Sensei."

"Me too," agreed Obito, scratching at his nose. "Sorry about the twerp, he has an attitude problem."

"Obito—" Minato bit out with a sigh.

"What?" The boy adjusted his goggles defensively.

"You shouldn't talk about teammates that way," chided his female friend, nudging the boy's shoulder with her own companionably.

"Kashi-kun's a sore loser," piped up Katsumi, blinking herself awake as they continued to walk down the road.

"Katsumi—" began Chiyoko with her voice stretched thin in warning.

"Exactly," agreed Obito with a definitive nod.

Chiyoko shared a commiserating look with Minato.

* * *

Tsunade set down her 'blondes have more fun' coffee mug on the desk, willing the caffeine to kick in quickly and wake her up—her reading material certainly wasn't going to accomplish that task. She didn't feel guilty in the slightest that she'd commandeered the jōnin lounge's last case of coffee for the hospital staff break room. Anyone who was about to read what she was would understand. She picked up the notes Orichimaru had wanted her to review on cell grafting—he seemed to think he was on to something that would eventually let him regrow organs—when a tap on the window had her acknowledging the ANBU with a grimace.

She unlocked the window and thrust it up with a displeased grunt. "What the hell does he want now?" She wasn't feeling particularly charitable since Biwako-san had dumped two days of surgery on her so that the older woman could stay home and tend to her own kid's cold.

After the ANBU relayed his message, Tsunade pursed her lips and swept the necessary materials into a bag before heading over to the Tower. Minori, the Hokage's bafflingly patient secretary, led her to a small conference room.

She took a moment to stand in the doorway and observe the group inside. Two of Minato's three brats were present, backs to her. The older one was waving his hands animatedly; entertaining his companions with some loud story that sounded like it was at the expense of his clan head.

Her eyes were drawn to the woman though—the one who was the alleged mother of her teammate's child. She looked…awfully simple, actually. The slug sannin let her eyes wander over the other woman, taking the time to catalogue the mud on the hem of her yukata, the dark brown hair escaping a messy bun, tired lines in the corner of the woman's eyes even though she could only be in her mid-twenties.

How…disappointingly ordinary. The blonde grimaced. It's not that the other woman wasn't pretty—there was a delicacy in the angles of her face that she'd often heard men comment on as appealing—but, and maybe this was it, the other woman seemed _delicate_. The opposite of strong.

How had Jiraiya ever been attracted to _her_? Tsunade had to mentally hit herself. Of course the man had been attracted to her. Had Jiraiya ever met a woman he wasn't attracted to?

The young woman's eyes flicked upward briefly, and then her entire body jerked in surprise as she noted the stranger watching them from the doorway.

The genin spun around in response to the woman's body language. When they didn't relax, the woman drew back even more.

"Tsu-Tsunade-sama," the girl stammered, a blush spreading across her face. "I didn't see you there!"

_That's right_. Tsunade smothered her sigh and crossed her arms. _The girl was a fan._

"Hi!"

Tsunade blinked at the chirp and then looked down when she realized the voice didn't match any of the people at which she was staring.

A toddler peered back at her with curious green eyes.

Tsunade studied the young face for a few seconds—searching the shape of the eyes and the line of her jaw for similarities to her teammate— until she realized it was probably strange to be engaging in a prolonged, silent staring contest with a—_did Jiraiya say three or four?—_a very small person.

"Hello." Tsunade drew the word out slowly, uncrossing her arms so she could rest her hands on her hips and lean down. She squinted at the small thing. "You don't look like your Daddy at all do you," she finally mused with a grunt.

"No." Green eyes blinked up at her. "I'm pretty."

Tsunade choked on her laugh and suppressed her amusement. She raised her gaze to meet the rather terrified one belonging to the girl's mother. "Are you sure this was sexual reproduction?" She drawled, "Because I know a man who'd love to have a chat with you if you've mastered cloning."

A bright red flush burst across the woman's face. Eventually, she gave a stilted reply. "While I'd actually prefer it to be the latter, I'm embarrassed to confess it was the former."

Tsunade didn't succeed in completely hiding her smile. Maybe the woman wasn't entirely spineless after all. "Come on kid." She picked up the girl and set her on the table. "I have to run a couple of tests."

Tsunade pulled out a specimen bag as Rin reassured Chiyoko that this was 'all perfectly normal procedure.' Tsunade had to give the girl points for her reassuring bullshit skills. The Uchiha scowled at her suspiciously from behind the increasingly anxious mother.

"Open up." She learned forward with a cotton swab.

"You're very pretty," commented the girl instead, pulling back, eyes wide in apprehension.

Tsunade huffed a laugh. "Unfortunately, I need something other than flattery. I do promise it's painless though. I just need a genetic sample for some autosomal testing."

The girl twisted to look at her mother.

"It's ok, Katsumi-chan." The younger woman walked up to put a comforting hand on her daughter's back.

"Ok," agreed Katsumi, voice not quite as confident. She obediently opened her mouth and Tsunade took a swipe of genetic material, wrapping it up to preserve it for her test.

The girl balked when she pulled out a needle.

"Uhm, Tsunade-sama?" The medic nin in training piped up. "How much blood were you going to draw?"

"Oh, about twelve vials," she said nonchalantly. Then rolled her eyes at the collective looks of horror thrown at her. "I'm taking two, mostly to determine whether she needs any vaccines for some diseases she might be exposed to in Konoha which aren't common in Grass." She watched the mother's posture relax with the explanation. It was mostly the truth, anyway.

"Well, umm," Rin stuttered again—

"Speak up," barked Tsunade, growing impatient with the younger girl's hesitance.

"It'sjustshe'salittlelowonchakrasoyoumightwantowait—" The girl's words came out in a jumbled squeak.

Tsunade frowned and immediately put a glowing green hand to the girl's head, causing the kid to flinch in surprise.

"Why is she so low on chakra?" she barked at the female genin once she'd confirmed the comment. The girl quailed at the force of the words and, frustrated, Tsunade turned to the Uchiha boy for a clear answer.

He blinked furiously at unexpectedly becoming the focus of the sannin's attention.

"We were playing a game earlier today," Obito managed to get out, inching to the left, toward the door. "To see who could hold leaves to their heads the longest."

Tsunade scowled. "Well who let that genius plan go considering this kid has no training?"

"Sensei?" Obito offered, voice high and tentative as he pressed his back up against the wall.

Tsunade narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me while I go punt your Sensei through the wall," she finally bit out, before stalking out of the room.

Chiyoko gaped after her.

"And get the kid a glass of water to rehydrate," yelled the Sannin, poking her head back into the room briefly. "We'll finish this up later."

"Is she serious?" Chiyoko finally managed to ask in the stunned silence following the woman's departure.

Obito twitched nervously. "Possibly." He sank into an empty chair with a relieved slump. "But, Sensei's with the Hokage and I think the old man kind-of frowns on Tsunade-sama putting holes in his walls, so…" he trailed off with a shrug.

Chiyoko slumped into the chair next to him, keeping her eyes trained on the door, bewildered.

"I can't believe you threw Sensei under the wagon like that," scolded Rin, without any heat in her voice. She stared at the empty door with a mix of fear and awe. "It was your idea not Sensei's—"

"Oh no," Scoffed the boy. "Sensei's totally the designated person on this team for dealing with angry Sannin." He played with the straps on his gloves. "Besides, it's not like any of us knew she was going to march in here and do a medical—"

"Wait," interrupted Chiyoko, leaning around the toddler sitting in her lap. "Was this not normal procedure?"

Obito and Rin exchanged panicked glances.

"Oh, no, Chiyoko-san this was absolutely routine—"

"Perfectly normal! It happens every time!"

"For every new person that comes to Konoha—"

"I had one just last week!"

"It's actually quite an honor for Tsunade-sama—"

Chiyoko rolled her eyes at the babbling children and glowered unhappily at the wall.

* * *

At first, Orochimaru was determined to ignore Tsunade when she marched into the room and began rummaging through his desk drawers, looking for some alcohol she'd hidden in case of emergencies (and where Dan wasn't likely to find it). Each of his teammates had their quirks, and hiding adult beverages for the woman was harmless in the grand scheme of things. It also ensured that he saw the blonde on a regular basis without having to leave his office.

Tsunade had a lot of emergencies.

It became harder to ignore her when she set down two saké cups on the desk with a grim expression, followed by a wrinkled stack of papers.

He lifted his head up from his microscope and peered at her curiously. "Did someone die?" He asked politely.

Tsunade frowned. "Not yet." She pushed the papers toward him. "I'm too scared to interpret it myself," she admitted. "I need you to take a look at it. Your expert opinion is going to determine how much of this bottle we finish off."

"Such pessimism," murmured Orochimaru chidingly, his hypothesis about the source of Tsunade's inner turmoil confirmed when the stack of papers turned out to be the results of genetic testing. He scanned the hastily drafted graph, noting the percentage of matching SNPs.

"My condolences," he drawled. "He has a daughter."

Tsunade sighed and filled Orochimaru's cup. She took the bottle for herself.

"Don't you need to turn these results into Sensei?" Orochimaru ignored the offering.

"Eventually," agreed Tsunade, not looking particularly interested in accomplishing that task.

Orochimaru set down the papers to return his attention to his analysis of the spores of the poisonous galerina marginata.

"You know," the slug sannin interrupted. "He's going to insist she calls you Uncle."

Orochimaru paused.

He pulled back from the microscope and grudgingly accepted his drink.

* * *

Minato stretched his arms out along the back of Hokage-sama's couch, slumping into the cushions in a manner reminiscent of his own Sensei's typical behavior. Normally he wouldn't allow himself to act so relaxed in the presence of the Village Leader, but he'd been waiting to report for forty-five minutes.

Sandaime-sama had asked him to hold his report until Jiraiya arrived and Tsunade had run some medical tests.

Minato was going to be here a while.

Until then, he was struggling to find something to occupy himself that didn't include picking up any of the very interesting looking scrolls that littered the room. It was a tendency leftover from his under-supervised childhood; if Minato saw a scroll or a book, he just had to pick it up and read it. The toad sannin didn't mind, although Minato learned quite early on while under the man's tutelage that picking up Jiraiya's reading material came with its own hazards. Sarutobi-sama on the other hand, despite leaning toward leniency for his own student's only remaining student, was not as indulgent of Minato's nosier habits.

"But Hokage-sama," insisted the brunette chūnin with an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice. "That's the third time this month the jōnin lounge has run out of coffee early and _I'm_ in charge of restocking it—"

The man's voice broke embarrassingly and he blushed and looked down at the floor, unwilling to continue to elaborate upon the threats he had no doubt received for his failure to anticipate the caffeine needs of the Village's more deadly and unpredictable demographic.

"Oh for heaven's sake," grumbled the leader of one of the strongest militaries in the world, taking the paper and signing his name with a flourish. "I've got more pressing things to do, if you think we need to be ordering ten more cases of coffee for the jōnin lounge, just do it, don't bother me with the matter."

The chūnin bowed hurriedly and scurried out, ignoring Minato and clutching his approved order form protectively against his chest.

The Hokage picked up his pipe and considered the rest of the paperwork scattered about his desk with an irritated huff.

Minato's fingers twitched toward a scroll dangling precariously on the arm rest. He stuffed them in his pocket and tried to focus on counting the scuff marks in the wooden floors.

"What did you do to that poor chūnin?" A deep voice bellowed in greeting.

Minato's lips twitched upward in a smile. "Sensei!"

"Minato-kun!" Jiraiya plopped down onto the couch next to the younger man and dropped a heavy hand on top of the blond's head, mussing his student's hair.

Minato pulled away with a put upon expression. "Stop that, I'm not ten!"

"You travel like you are," shot back the Sannin. "What took you so long?" The larger man fell back against the well-abused cushions with a frown. "I thought you'd be here days ago, I was starting to get worried."

"Umm…, weeeellll," Minato drew out the word and scratched at the side of his face, shrinking back sheepishly.

"Civilian women and small children aren't known for crossing great distances quickly," commented the Hokage, eyes crinkling in amusement. "And we did ask Minato-kun to take his time coming back, did we not? So that he might observe your progeny away from the Village before deeming it safe to bring her here?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jiraiya huffed, crossing his arms. "What did you learn then, brat?"

"That you're going to have to give me a new nickname," Minato teased, shoulders loosening up as he figuratively danced away from the subject of his possibly questionable mission strategy. "I think you'll find that moniker far more apt for Katsumi-chan."

Jiraiya rubbed his chin in faux contemplation. "She can be brat-chan."

"No," stressed the younger jōnin, leaning forward to plead his case with alarming sincerity. "She can be _the_ brat, you can't have two—she's already going around calling me nii-san, don't I deserve to be called by my own name by now? You know that's stuck right—all the jōnin are _still _calling me that and it's been years since I was promoted—"

"Goodness, Minato-kun," interrupted the Hokage cheerfully as the blond's face reddened upon at the reminder of his audience. "As frustrating as dealing with your teacher is, and believe me, I'm _intimately _experienced with his reign of terror. I did read _all _your mission reports for the past decade, mind you. We do need you to report on—"

The door slammed open and in stormed Tsunade, sulkily tossing some papers at Jiraiya, which meant that it was Minato who darted off the couch and scrambled to catch them. Orochimaru followed smoothly in the tetchy sannin's wake, nodding calmly in recognition to the two men on the couch.

"I take it the tests verify that the child is Jiraiya's then?" the Sandaime mused, seemingly unperturbed by the abrupt intrusion.

"Yes," said Tsunade sourly as she refused to meet the eyes of her suddenly smug teammate.

Orochimaru tilted his head in agreement. "I confirmed the results myself, I'm afraid—"

"Afraid?" Jiraiya glared at his teammate. "What do you mean afraid—"

"That's settled then," said the Hokage with finality. "Now, before your grand entrance, Minato-kun was about to summarize his impressions of the girl and her mother—"

"About that," Tsunade's head snapped up and she glared accusingly at the younger blond. "The girl's near chakra exhaustion, what were you doing letting her use that much chakra and _what _was she doing with it?"

Minato blinked warily up at the older blonde, his eyes seeking out his own teacher for support. "They were just playing a variation of an exercise Sensei said he taught her." Minto held his palms up. "she wasn't in any danger."

"I couldn't run the blood tests—"

"Why would you need to run blood tests?" Jiraiya asked, perplexed.

"How in the world am I supposed to establish a medical history without a blood test?" Tsunade huffed indignantly, "and I—"

"Tsunade," soothed the Hokage. "You'll have plenty of time to do your blood tests later and there is nothing wrong with Jiraiya's child participating in chakra exercises."

Tsunade grit her teeth. "Yes there is, Dan and I've told you all several times now that chakra use in children, especially children under the age of 5, must be carefully monitored or the child risks burning their chakra coils irreparably. The only ninja we have capable of monitoring that type of use are medic nin and Hyuuga clan members and Minato's girl isn't trained in that—"

The Hokage sighed. "I understand Tsunade, and I have read those reports. But children have been using chakra that young for decades and most turn out just fine. Why, we even have the young Hatake boy as the latest example of self-monitoring-"

"It is literally a miracle that boy hasn't hurt himself—"

"Let's all take a deep breath and calm down and shelve that topic for another day," interrupted Jiraiya, putting out a hand as if he could physically push the tension in the room down to a more manageable level. "Tsunade, you and Dan have done really important studies and I should have paid more attention to them. I was just excited about teaching Katsumi something new," Jiraiya admitted. He was trying to head off another inevitable debate between the Hokage and his female teammate. _For someone who didn't want to be Hokage, she sure does have a lot of ideas about how she wants to change things_.

Jiraiya shook his head. "I was just trying to get her interested and excited about being a ninja, but I'll be more careful from now on. Besides, Minato-kun wouldn't let her hurt get hurt, right Minato?"

"Well about that," Minato scooted to the far end of the couch, outside of his teacher's immediate reach. "Remember how I had instructions to make sure Katsumi-chan and her mother weren't, umm, plants, from Grass?"

"Yes?" Jiraiya looked at his student in confusion.

"Well," Minato shrank back against the armrest. "ImayhaveletsomeGrassninwhofolloweduskidnapher-tofigureoutwhathteywereinterestedinandhowsheand her mother responded—" Minato was forced to pause for air.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jiraiya shifted on the couch, to fully face his student. "Did you just say you let her get kidnapped?"

"Only for a little while," Minato promised.

"A little while?" Jiraiya repeated, voice rising in exasperation.

"Eighteen hours." Minato nodded vigorously.

"What do you mean you let her get kidnapped for eighteen hours?" Jiraiya lurched forward but Minato bounced onto the balls of his feet and skittered away.

"She's four, you brat," growled the sannin, rising to his feet to follow his student. "She shouldn't have been out of sight for any hours."

"Well that's just unrealistic," Minato opined, flitting behind the Hokage's desk, navigating so that the Sandaime was a barrier between the toad sannin and the youngest jōnin.

"Oh yeah," agreed Tsunade, arms crossed. "Babysitter of the year, that one. Did you let your six year old chūnin lead the rescue mission?"

"Kakashi-kun had everything under control," defended Minato, bending backward to dodge his teacher as the man lunged across the desk.

The Sandaime grunted in mild displeasure. "Watch the ink, Jiraiya-kun."

"Besides," protested Minato. "She escaped herself before the boys caught up to her." He continued his retreat, but reassessed that plan when he realized his next steps would take him behind Tsunade. The woman was already cracking her knuckles, more to discourage any attempt to use her as a shield than out of any anger at hearing of Minato's alleged history of child endangerment.

"Aren't you supposed to take my side?" whined Jiraiya to the slug sannin. "You seemed ready to redesign some walls because he let her use chakra just a few minutes ago!"

Tsunade narrowed her eyes. "Short of medical negligence, I'm not intervening."

"Come now Tsunade," chided the Hokage. "Medical negligence is a bit far—"

"She escaped on her own?" pondered Orochimaru, loudly. It wasn't so much of a display of interest as it was an effort to refocus the topic of conversation to that which would get them dismissed quickest at the only volume that would be heard in the room.

"She waited until they'd stopped to eat and escaped through the bathroom." Minato shrugged, casually stepping around the room in a wide arch designed to reach his original perch without putting him in reach of the man who wanted to pin him to the floor. "She was just clever and had a good sense of timing, and she managed to stay hidden until the boys caught up to her. It wasn't anything too out of the ordinary."

Jiraiya continued to scowl at his student. "And where was her mom during all this?"

Minato scratched at the back of his head, embarrassed. "Apparently she didn't want to wait for us to come back so she and Rin ran after us. She really pushed herself— messed her feet up pretty badly, which is one of the reasons it took us so long to get back."

"Was she upset at being separated from the child?" Orochimaru's unusual eyes studied the blond intently.

"Very," admitted Minato, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back. "I realize now that there were less traumatizing ways to accomplish my goals. However, it was a good opportunity to confirm what the Kusa-nin were after, observe Chiyoko and Katsumi's responses, and allow my team a chance to react to foreign opposition in a controlled environment. I followed closely the entire time, I would have intervened if—"

"It was a fine choice, Minato-kun." The Hokage waved his hand dismissively.

"Fine!" Jiraiya blurted, gawking at the older man. "How is that fine—"

"Yes, fine," insisted the Sandaime. "The likelihood of harm was minimal and it did allow Minato-kun the chance to accomplish several goals at once. It was fine. You've all made similar decisions at various points in the past—"

"It wasn't _my kid_ in the past," grumbled Jiraiya in discontent, but he returned to sitting next to his student all the same.

"Are we done?" Orochimaru's gaze wandered toward the door.

"Almost," assured the Sandaime. "Although I'm sure Jiraiya will actually want you to meet the child for who you've agreed to be godparents. What's your full assessment of the girl and her mother then, Minato-kun?"

"They're civilians, as expected." The blond twitched. "Chiyoko-san is very polite and organized. It was clear she was accustomed to taking charge of children and expected them to follow her orders. The reversal of the authority dynamic was hard for her at first. Despite making an effort to acknowledge my student's positions, she still found ways to express maternal concern such as critiquing their eating habits and mending their clothes. She has an amiable personality. Her manner of expression, the nature of her questions, and the depth of her knowledge of various subject matters all indicate above average intelligence and above expected levels of education for her position. However, she did not exhibit any behaviors out of line with what should be anticipated given her known history. She respects authority and is uncomfortable questioning the decisions of those she views as her superiors. The only time she dares to do so is when it concerns the wellbeing of her child."

The Hokage picked up his pipe and leaned back in his chair, absently considering the ceiling, "Attachments?"

"She cares deeply for family and grieves the loss of those she left behind, especially her older brother, but believes she has made the best choice for her daughter, which is her highest priority." Minato tapped his knee in thought. "I don't believe she plans on leaving the Village. I think she will settle in nicely as long as she is given tasks to complete which will allow her to support her child. She is accustomed to and will appreciate being financially self-sufficient. I would recommend either allowing her to continue teaching in civilian schools or as a private tutor. She has a solid work ethic and will be uncomfortable relying on anything she perceives to be charity, including financial support from Sensei."

"I don't mind," protested the Sannin. "I don't expect her to—"

Minato shook his head. "She doesn't know you very well and I don't think she trusts anyone too much right now. She probably trusts my students more than anyone else; you are just a man who was in her life one night and then vanished."

"Ouch," murmured Tsunade, inspecting a chip in the paint of her fingernails.

Jiraiya grimaced, but didn't object to the characterization.

"Her life experience has taught her that she needs to be able to care for and provide for her child on her own. That will be her most pressing short term goal," continued Minato. "In fact I anticipate she'll be out looking for jobs tomorrow, if allowed. No matter what arrangements Sensei has made for her."

"So, she'll need employment and possibly childcare," Sarutobi mused, leaning forward to make some notes to himself. "Katsumi-chan is four, correct?" He didn't wait for confirmation. "That's young, of course, but is she capable of starting the Academy curriculum? Does she show potential for graduating early?"

Minato hesitated. "It's not that she isn't intellectually capable of handling the work, but I think it would be best to wait on enrolling her until the new term begins. And she'll probably need the full period of schooling or something close to it."

"Oh?" the Sandaime paused his note taking. "Elaborate."

"She's very bright," the blond explained. "I'd say she's possibly on par with Kakashi intellectually, and is more advanced when it comes to social contexts and managing interpersonal relationships. She and Kakashi routinely engage in intelligent conversation, and that's the first person younger than him that I've seen do that. What I'm worried about is how she'll adjust to the physical demands and mental conditioning that is involved in the Academy."

The older man frowned, setting down his brush completely. "Has she no aptitude for being a kunoichi then?"

Minato grimaced. "I think she has an aptitude for being a politician," he muttered. "She has a way with words."

Jiraiya snorted mirthfully.

Minato cleared his throat. "She could make an excellent kunoichi with time and training. She's intelligent, learns quickly, and there are indicators that she is going to have large chakra stores for her age and gender. But, unlike Kakashi-kun, she's had absolutely no prior physical training and she doesn't come from a clan household—or even a household with a healthy appreciation of shinobi. She'll be starting from scratch when it comes to physical training. Not only that, but her mother has instilled the idea that physical conflict should be avoided and is, for lack of other words, 'bad.' She shies away from physical confrontation and it may be hard to break her of that habit."

"Shouldn't we be putting her through the curriculum as soon as possible?" Orochimaru drawled his words slowly, as if the answer to his query was evident.

"I've thought a lot about this," admitted Minato, shifting uncomfortably under the attention of the three Sannin and the Hokage. "I think it will be better to introduce both Chiyoko and Katsumi to the idea of becoming a ninja slowly, over time. Like most children, Katsumi values her mother's approval. She knows that her mother isn't excited about Katsumi attending the Academy. If we can take some time to build Chiyoko's trust in us and the Village, and to get Katsumi intrigued by the idea of being a ninja, and wanting to take the classes on her own—I think that will go much better in the long run than forcing Academy classes on the girl immediately."

Minato grew flustered in the silence. "I'm not saying wait forever, but it's mid-term now, right? I don't think it would hurt to wait the four to five months for the new term to start. She'll be five then, and most of her peers entering with her will be her the same age at that point. Even if she's bumped up a grade, the age difference won't be as noticeable. And it will give some time for Chiyoko and Katsumi to adjust to the Village and make new connections with the people here. To see for themselves that becoming a kunoichi is something desirable, not an unfortunate necessity of circumstance."

Orochimaru scoffed. "I told you the mother would be a problem—"

"The boy's idea has merit," said the Hokage with a sharp edge that had the snake sannin's mouth clicking shut.

"But if Chiyoko-san is going to be working all day, what are we going to do with Katsumi-chan?" Jiraiya scratched at the back of his head. "I can't have her with me all the time; I'm in the field too much."

"You're just afraid she'll limit your 'research,'" said Tsunade dryly, hands on her hips.

Jiraiya narrowed his eyes at the medic nin. "What about—"

"No," said Tsunade firmly, not even waiting for any solution involving her person to be put forward.

"But he _likes—"_

"NO." Apparently she had the same attitude regarding Dan.

Jiraiya's gaze slid toward his other teammate, speculative and assessing.

"I run a lab that focuses on toxins and dabble in genetics on the side," murmured Orochimaru, raising an eyebrow. "That's hardly the place to keep a bored infant."

"She's not an _infant_—" Jiraiya rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"There are options," was the Sandaime's vague contribution. "I do want to meet the girl fist though. Please go fetch her, and the mother too, Minato-kun."

* * *

"45 bottles of saké on the wall, 45 bottles of saké, take one down, pass it around—"

A polite wrap of knuckles against a wooden door frame interrupted Obito and Katsumi's cheerful singing. Well, Katsumi's singing and Obito's somewhat lyrical chanting. There were some notes. Arguably.

"Oh thank God." Rin slumped forward in relief at the appearance of Sensei and slid off her chair. She had not taken to learning Katsumi's strange songs as exuberantly as Obito, unfortunately.

Chiyoko looked up from her examination of a cooking magazine the secretary had given her.

"We got to forty-five bottles this time, nii-san!" Katsumi chirped excitedly to the jōnin.

"Kakashi-kun will be sad you didn't beat your record," nodded Sensei gravely.

Obito inwardly preened. Kakashi had held out a good long while, trying to emulate Chiyoko's 'ignore them and they'll cease' philosophy (however erroneous reality with Katsumi proved that to be). He'd made it all the way to 27 before snapping, forcing Sensei to swoop in and carry the kid tossed over his shoulder for a few miles before the chūnin attacked their four year old client with kunai.

"Hokage-sama would like to see you," explained the blond as he escorted the group down the hallway, genin straightening in response to his words.

Obito followed at the back of the group while Rin took the lead with Sensei and Katsumi trailed behind her mother, looking at the people they passed with wide eyes and surprising silence.

Obito's own eyes widened when he walked into the office and realized that not only was the Hokage awaiting their arrival, but all three of the Sannin as well. He swallowed, his throat was dry—even though he'd taken a drink not that long ago when he'd gotten some water for Katsumi per Tsunade's orders. Luckily, the Sannin seemed completely uninterested in his presence. And Rin's. Instead, all eyes zoomed in on Chiyoko and her daughter, who promptly hid behind her mother and pressed her face against her mother's legs as Minato announced them to the room.

"My apologies," said Chiyoko with pink cheeks, twisting and trying to pull Katsumi away from her. Katsumi whined and clutched at her more tightly. "She's just a little overwhelmed at the moment," said the brunette, smile strained.

Jiraiya cleared his throat and strode forward, kneeling down so he was eye level with the little girl. "Katsumi-chan, aren't you excited to see me? I have some people I want you to meet, come here for a second."

Obito exchanged a nervous look with Rin. It was _really _weird to see the toad sannin attempt to say something to a child that didn't have Sensei immediately clamping a hand over the man's mouth and dragging him out of the room.

Katsumi murmured something unintelligible, her words smothered in her mother's yukata.

"What was that?" Jiraiya lowered his head further, turning his ear to the girl. A funny expression crossed his face and he raised his head to look at his blonde teammate. "She says she doesn't want any shots," he drawled.

All eyes turned toward the slug sannin.

Tsunade frowned defensively. "I didn't give her any shots."

"She's not going to give you any shots, sweetheart," Jiraiya cajoled, gently tugging on Katsumi's hands.

Obito had a terrible feeling creeping up his spine, like the ice that swept over a person upon waking from a dream which was unmemorable apart from the knowledge that it was _terrible beyond belief and must never be allowed to happen._

"No shots," repeated Katsumi, clearly this time. She was still clinging fiercely to her mother, but had lifted her face up in a sulky pout, directing her words to the female jōnin.

Orochimaru muttered something under his breath that Obito couldn't make out, but whatever it was prompted Tsunade to throw her hands in the air with an exasperated huff.

"Fine," bit out the woman. "No shots. At least," she amended sternly, "not today."

Katsumi finally let herself be pried from her mother and Jiraiya swept the girl up in his arms and carried her over to the Hokage.

_Oh no._ Obito could only register an alarmed ringing in his brain, as if the foundations of his universe were shaking and breaking and reassembling themselves with edges that no longer quite met and with too little time to properly align. _Jiraiya._ _Katsumi's mysterious father. Sensei's interest. The Sannin. Jiraiya. Chiyoko's distaste/disinterest in Katsumi's other parent. Jiraiya. Child. _

At least Rin seemed to be experiencing the same terrible epiphanies, judging from the intense look of horror spreading across her face.

Sensei was ignoring them. Bad Sensei. There had not been enough emotional preparation for this event. Not nearly enough. But could there have been? Given they were escorting a girl whose father's public ambition in life was to be known as a _connoisseur_ of women? And also, he felt embarrassed on Chiyoko-san's behalf. Clearly that woman had better taste (and sense) than _Jiraiya —_

"This is my Sensei, Katsumi-chan. He's the Hokage of our Village."

Obito came back to himself in time to hear Jiraiya introducing what was, potentially, _his child_, to Sandaime-sama.

A heavy silence fell over the room as little girl and grizzled village leader studied each other intently.

"You have a silly hat," Katsumi informed the older man gravely. "It's not flattering for the shape of your face."

"Katsumi-chan," Chiyoko's faint, mortified scolding went ignored when Sandaime-sama threw back his head with a laugh.

"It is indeed a very silly hat," agreed the man, taking the offending garment off his head and setting it on the table. "I'm afraid it's a terribly symbolic silly hat though, people take me the most seriously when I look the most foolish. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, dear? Minato has waxed poetic about you and your mother for a good half hour now, but I'd like to hear your story in your own words."

Obito spared his Sensei a glance, but the man looked nonplussed, arms behind his back and standing at attention with a serene expression on his face.

For the first time in the few weeks he'd known the girl, Katsumi seemed uncomfortable and timid. She hesitated before answering and her words came slow and stilted. "My name is Katsumi and I'm four." She twisted in Jiraiya's arms, looking back at her mother for reassurance. "I like my Mom and reading and," her gaze brushed over the other sannin and her words faltered completely. Her face burned red and she turned to hug Jiraiya's neck, refusing to look back at the rest of her audience.

"Hey now," the toad sannin blinked in surprise and bounced the girl. "Why are you so scared? What happened to all those bold, brave statements you were making when I last saw you, huh?"

"My sense of self-preservation ate them!" Katsumi confessed with a wail into Jiraiya's hair.

Obito tried to muffle the slightly hysterical giggle that rose in his throat, but was caught out.

"What was that, Obito-kun?" asked the Hokage, eyes sharp but not unkind.

"Umm…" Obito scratched at the back of his neck. "I just said I didn't think she had one of those."

Rin's lips thinned.

"Oh?" The Sandaime leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "Why don't you introduce your friend then, Obito-kun?"

Obito swallowed. He wasn't entirely sure where the Hokage was going with this, but, well, orders were orders. "This is Katsumi-chan," he waved at the toddler. "She likes her mother and reading, true. But she also likes sweets, her rabbit—it's not a real rabbit, but well—and then, um, she likes naptimes, having her hair brushed and bedtime stories. She dislikes green food and vegetables, being sunburned and people pulling her hair when they brush it in a hurry. She likes dogs but not cats. And she _hates _being told she can't do things as well as other people or that she's not important."

Obito bit his tongue, not wanting to say that much more. Somehow it didn't feel quite right to keep sharing information, about how Katsumi-chan was funny and witty and liked playing word games and had a vocabulary that could put some of his older cousins to shame. He didn't like the way the snake sannin's eyes, instead of looking off into the distance were now focusing on the toddler with—not quite interest—but no longer complete apathy. He didn't like the way that Tsunade-sama didn't seem to care about any of this, and kept tapping her foot impatiently against the floorboards like she had somewhere better to be. They didn't deserve more information; they should have to learn it on their own.

"What about Katsumi's goals in life, Obito-kun?" The Hokage prompted him to continue and finish out the traditional introduction of a new team member.

"She's four," Obito said flatly. "I don't think she has a long term goal." The Hokage's silence implied he should elaborate. "She'd like more deserts," Obito offered generously. "And she probably wouldn't turn down a puppy."

"Surely there's something she wants," the Hokage mused. "Katsumi-chan," the older man picked up his pipe and gestured toward the toddler, who appeared to have calmed down from her mild panic attack. "Why don't you tell us about something you'd like to accomplish in life?"

Katsumi thought for three seconds, before nodding decisively. "I want Kashi-kun to admit I'm winning."

Obito stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Yeah, that'd be it."

"Is that so?" The Hokage lowered his pipe in genuine surprise. "And what have you won then my dear?"

Katsumi beamed back, her former confidence seeping back into her limbs. "Not telling. We have a game," she confided. "He's losing."

"Ah," the Hokage nodded deeply, as if conspiring with her. "And do you like playing with Kakashi-kun then? And Minato's other students?"

Katsumi smiled sweetly. "Kashi-kun is my _favorite._"

The Hokage nodded indulgently.

Obito gazed at the ceiling, knowing he was the only one who was hearing the word 'target' after Katsumi's statement.

* * *

"We don't tell Kakashi," Obito stated finally, when he and Rin were far, far away from the tower, walking dazedly toward the residential areas of town.

Rin made a soft 'umph' of protest.

"Please," Obito beseeched. "Give me this one joy in life, Rin. That's all I ask. He finds out on his own."

Rin bit her lip, brown eyes locked forward in thought. "Ok," she agreed at last with a sigh, patting at her apron nervously. "We're not supposed to talk about it anyway, right?"

Obito laughed. "That's the spirit!" He hooked his arm through hers and dragged her forward, chattering about where they might go for lunch.

* * *

Rev. 5/4/16


	7. Chapter 7

A repetitive thudding noise roused Chiyoko to consciousness. She blinked herself slowly awake, drawing away from the warmth of the comforter and the tiny body curled up next to her. She rolled her neck, grimacing at the uncomfortable pull of her muscles as they protested the hours she'd spent sleeping in an awkward position.

Stuffed animals tumbled to the floor as she pulled herself away from her daughter and stumbled out of the child's room, rubbing her eyes as she tried to remember where the front door was in this new apartment.

She and Katsumi had been shown to their new home yesterday. It was generously furnished—presumably Jiraiya had done so, although he hadn't claimed the honor. She'd been shown some security features he had created (more seals) which he claimed would help keep the place safe. And then he and Minato-san had walked the girls to the market area, only a few streets away, to get some groceries. Afterward, Chiyoko and Katsumi returned to the apartment and had been left alone to unpack their lives.

Everything in the apartment was new and modern. The chairs were firm and polished; the appliances so shiny she could see her reflection in them. The oven wouldn't need to be kicked to get it to start. Chiyoko wouldn't open the microwave and see burn marks from when Katsumi had tried to cook popcorn in a metal pot. The hard floors of the living room weren't covered by fraying tatami mats from when Katsumi had meticulously pulled apart the edges as soon as she'd learned to crawl.

Chiyoko had done her best to smile and cheerfully bustle around the place, setting up familiar family photos in visible places and instructing Katsumi to unpack her own belongings in her room. Katsumi had seemed thrilled with all the toys-apparently a gift from her new godmother, that blonde Tsunade-woman and her fiancé, a man named Dan that they'd yet to meet. Jiraiya's appointment of godparents without consulting Chiyoko left a somewhat bitter taste in her mouth, but it's not like Chiyoko knew anyone in Konoha to recommend in their stead. And it did seem like the two Jiraiya had chosen would be influential resources for Katsumi in the future, able to provide assistance that Chiyoko couldn't.

She still couldn't bring herself to be completely happy about the matter.

However, eventually Chiyoko had been startled from her dazed staring contest with old photographs by her daughter's tears.

Katsumi couldn't decide if her new stuffed animals should be arranged by color or species or height and had a meltdown about how she missed her old toys. All of her old ones had carefully chosen names and very detailed histories. Katsumi treated them like animate beings instead of artfully pieced together piles of fabric and cotton stuffing. The new toys weren't replacements for her old friends, and the new furniture was cold comfort for the fact that Chiyoko had traded in her child's future for her child's safety.

The most logical choice wasn't always the most desirable one.

Or the correct one, at that.

Chiyoko sat on her daughter's pink bed—Jiraiya had clearly been trying to cater to her, his, daughter's tastes—and cried. Which made Katsumi cry harder, clutching her rabbit and an outrageously orange porpoise, and they'd both fallen asleep feeling stressed and tired and homesick.

Until this _knocking _had woken her. Chiyoko stumbled to the door, fumbling fingers struggling to undo the locks and staring at them in puzzlement when the door refused to budge. She slapped a hand to her forehead with a sigh. _Seals._

"I'm so sorry," she yelled through the door, hoping whoever was on the other side could hear her. "Give me one moment."

"Katsumi?" She called out, turning back to the bedroom. "Katsumi-chan, sweetheart, I'm sorry but I need you to wake up and help me open the door because your father's paranoia won out over his practicality. "If he even had any to begin with," she muttered under her breath.

After she'd woken her grumpy toddler and managed to get the girl coherent enough to put some chakra into the seal closing the door and deactivate it, as Jiraiya had taught her to do the night before, Chiyoko found an impatiently shifting man with a Konoha hitai-ate on the other side.

"Hokage-sama asked me to deliver this to you," said the young man with a bow, disappearing in a blur of leaves the moment the paper he was holding touched Chiyoko's outstretched hand. Chiyoko watched the leaf-litter scatter about the hardwood planks and idly wondered if sweeping her entryway was going to become part of her daily routine. She balanced a sleepily mumbling Katsumi on one hip and unfolded the paper with her free hand.

"Kinoshita-san, please see Nakano-sensei about a teaching position at the civilian school located near…" her voice trailed off as she finished reading the note and her eyes wandered around the room, searching for something that would tell her the time. "But I'd need to be there in—" her eyes landed on the clock in the kitchen. "One hour!"

Chiyoko dropped her daughter on a pile of quilts, ignoring the resulting squawk of indignation as she hurried to turn her disheveled appearance into something more appropriate.

* * *

"Ten more minutes," Jiraiya grumbled into his pillow, only fully coming to when he realized his comment was not being followed with the bed being overturned or the feeling of a cold reptile curling around an ankle.

He didn't recognize the insistent pounding on his door, not the pattern of knocks or the weight being given to them, but, well, it was insistent. He grunted and rolled out of bed.

"Yes, yes, I—" Jiraiya opened the door and his impatient tone transitioned to confusion. "Chiyoko-san?" He ran a hand over his face tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

"I have an interview in fifteen minutes and you said you'd watch her if needed." The woman spit out the words in a hurry, braiding her hair and trying to twist it up into a bun at the same time, nudging her daughter forward with a knee.

"Hi Daddy," chirped the child, patting his leg briefly before turning to her mother with her arms held expectantly in the air. "Goodbye, Mommy. I love you."

"Oh, yes." Chiyoko quickly secured the pins in her hair and ducked down to let her daughter give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She returned the gesture. "Bye, sweetheart. Be good for Jiraiya-san. I love you too."

With her mother's blessing, Katsumi slipped past her father's legs and into his apartment.

"Katsumi-chan wait," Jiraiya called after her, still blinking at this unexpected twist to what should have been a lazy morning. He couldn't decide who to confront first, but the responsible adult in this equation was leaving. "You wait too, I know I said I could watch her, but I can't—"

"Yes, you can." Chiyoko was rummaging through her purse impatiently. "That was why you pointed out where you lived last night, right? Who else am I supposed to ask?" Her eyes brightened as she found what she was looking for. "Here is the spare key to the apartment if you need to take her back for anything. I should only be gone on an hour or so. Unless the position starts immediately—"

"Immediately?" Jiraiya squeaked his distress and lurched forward to catch Chiyoko's arm but she slipped out of his grip with alarming ease for a civilian.

"I'll come pick her up at the end of the day if that's the case, but I have to go now!" She called back over her shoulder as she headed to the stairwell.

"What am I supposed to do with her!?" Jiraiya gaped after her retreating back. His loud exclamations were beginning to cause a few of his neighbors to poke their heads out of their own doors with disapproving frowns. He ignored them.

"You'll figure it out, she's really no trouble!"

And with that sage advice the woman disappeared from his line of sight.

Jiraiya looked beseechingly up at the ceiling.

Mori-san from 342A was still staring at him in consternation when he brought his eyes back down.

The grizzled, older man scowled, scratching at the scruff on his chin. "I know your lifestyle is a little chaotic, but could you please keep your domestic disputes to yourse—"

Jiraiya slammed the door shut and took a deep breath, leaning his back against the wooden frame.

The noise of the rarely used television blaring to life caught Jiraiya's attention. "Katsumi-chan, what are you doing?" Jiraiya was already dreading the answer as his gaze wandered over the room: empty food cartons, piles of unwashed clothing, kunai scattered about the table where he'd been meaning to polish them when he'd found a moment.

He kicked a scroll graphically depicting the effects of electricity applied to various muscle groups under a moldy towel. He rubbed the back of his neck; maybe he should have let Chiyoko know where he lived _after _he'd cleaned up the place a bit.

He could put the girl in the spare room, right? Convince her to nap for a bit so he could get another hour of sleep? He crossed the kitchen and peeked into the room he'd originally set up as a room for writing. Somehow over the years it became a study dedicated to fuinjutsu / guestroom that was occasionally used by a recuperating Minato —scrolls everywhere, stacks of adult magazines, torn pants, bloodstained bandages, various bottles of ink-was that a bra?

Ok, maybe not there either. He shut the door firmly and swallowed. This was harder than it looked and he hadn't even said hello to the kid yet. He peered into the living room, where Katsumi was flipping the controller in her hands and thoughtfully examining it. She'd wrapped herself in a bright blanket—thankfully a clean one she'd brought from her own home. The worn rabbit he'd seen her carrying yesterday was tucked under one of her arms.

He shoved his mostly empty mission pack off the couch and sank down next to her as she decided on a show and then curled up against his side. Come to think of it, he hadn't turned on this thing since that one woman was over who wanted to watch—

His gaze slid down to the four year old. He doubted she'd be watching anything like that. Certainly not for the next decade or so, at least.

"What's this?" Jiraiya asked. The bright colors and noises bursting across the screen weren't doing anything for his headache.

"I don't know." He felt the girl shrug, her small shoulders digging into his side. "Shinji-nii-san said it was a girly show and never let me watch it."

"Oh?" There was an awful lot of pink and glitter. Were those horses?

"He always got to pick the shows 'cuz he's bigger than me." Her grip tightened on the controller possessively.

Fortunately, Jiraiya had no interest in battling a toddler to determine what cartoons were being watched.

The horses started singing. Jiraiya closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He'd heard worse. At least it seemed to be keeping the kid quiet.

"Daddy."

"What?" His head dipped as he tried to blink himself more awake.

Katsumi was still staring ahead at the brightly colored ponies, unmoving against his side.

"Daddy, you smell."

That was probably from the sake that waitress had spilled on him last night when he'd gone to dinner with Minato.

"_Daddy_ _you smell._" Katsumi repeated the words forcefully, although she remained focused on the show.

"Yeah, ok." Jiraiya mumbled and rubbed his face. "Imma going to take a shower." He stood and stretched, Katsumi falling further into the couch without protest.

"You uh," he eyed the girl, racking his brain for memories about child development. "You need to use the restroom or anything?"

Katsumi's green eyes glanced at him, flat and unamused.

"Right." Jiraiya rubbed the back of his head and looked around. How child-proof was this room? He didn't see anything imminently dangerous about, but—"You just stay there, ok?" He pointed to the couch, determinedly not thinking about the smoke bombs under the cushions or those senbon he'd stuck in the armrest.

Katsumi made a noncommittal noise, but seemed content enough to watch the television with her rabbit.

"Right." Jiraiya nodded and went to shower.

Kakashi was already in the Academy at her age. She'd be fine, surely she was smart enough to know better than to play with weaponry. That she probably saw Sakumo's kid and Minato's other two brats play with all the time without a care in the world.

He'd shower quickly.

* * *

Chiyoko sat primly in the wooden chair, fingers laced tightly in her lap as she worked hard to keep her anxiety off her face. She_ needed _this job.

Nakano Akina adjusted her glasses as she reviewed the notes from their interview, tapping a pencil idly against her large wooden desk. The older woman pursed her lips. "Normally we don't do this Kinoshita-san, but it puts me in a difficult position to turn down a request from the Hokage."

Chiyoko bowed her head. She was slightly embarrassed, but as a foreigner from an area with a declining reputation, she knew she'd need the man's recommendation to secure employment.

"You do understand that the position is essentially that of an emergency assistant? You wouldn't have a classroom of your own, or a set group of students. You'd be filling in for teachers who are absent, and then you'd be working after school as a tutor for students who need extra assistance?"

"I understand," replied Chiyoko.

"It's not exactly a high demand position," said Nakano-sensei, somewhat apologetically. "The hours are strange and the pay is at a lower rate than a standard teacher. But, if you impress us with your work you will be one of the first ones considered should a regular position open up."

"I would greatly appreciate the opportunity," Chiyko said firmly. "I'll work hard to make sure you don't regret it."

"You said you have a young child?" Nakano tilted her head with carefully practiced polite interest. "Will childcare be a problem? I'm afraid this position requires your prompt attendance, since you will be covering for others' emergencies."

Chiyoko shook her head, "I have adequate arrangements."

Nakano-sensei sank back in her chair with a sigh. "Well then, you'll start today by substituting for Ibiki-san, she teaches an older class, which means it's larger than the younger classes. As a civilian school in a shinobi village, you'll find that the population of our classes increases as the students age-they drop out of the shinobi Academy and transfer to this school in its stead. She teaches mathematics and her classes go until four in the afternoon—"

Chiyoko set aside her concern for Katsumi; surely Jiraiya could handle her for one day. She was sorry to drop her on him like this, but he had made the offer, and she was going to have start trusting him to care for his child at some point in time. _He's already done so much more than I thought he would_. She stilled her hands as she caught herself nervously plucking at her mother's bracelet.

The sooner she could support herself without Jiraiya's help, the sooner she had the freedom to tell him to take a hike if he did anything with her child that she didn't like. She shoved the doubt that she'd be allowed to make that decision in a military village to the farthest recesses of her mind. She swallowed and tried to smile as she accepted the folder from Nakano-sensei, quickly skimming over the notes for the lessons she'd cover that day.

* * *

Jiraiya sneezed suddenly as he finished towel-drying his hair and hastily pulled it back. He could still hear sounds from the television, and he hadn't heard any screams or suspicious noises, so he imagined his offspring hadn't gotten into too much trouble. Maybe Minato had exaggerated about her being inclined to mischief? He tugged on a (relatively) clean shirt. Then again, Minato had said that he had trouble pinning things on the girl—

"Daddy there's a clown at the window!"

Jiraiya finished adjusting his clothes and swiftly went to greet the Anbu.

"Hello Duck," greeted Jiraiya gruffly, scratching his nose as he took the scrap of paper with Sensei's familiar writing. Of course Sensei wanted to talk _right now_—

Duck was still at the window. "Yes?" Jiraiya asked the man, surprised he hadn't vanished.

"Jiraiya-sama…," Duck trailed off, porcelain mask obscuring his features but unable to hide the hesitance in his tone.

"Well, what?" The sannin asked, setting his shoulders back in exasperation.

"Perhaps you should provide the child better reading material." Duck offered delicately.

Jiraiya turned around slowly, to see that Katsumi apparently _hadn't_ been watching the television and instead had decided to examine the nearest pile of magazines.

"Why do all these women have to go swimming?" Katsumi sounded genuinely puzzled. "Why don't they ever actually get in the water?"

Jiraiya felt his cheeks heat up-though, there were certainly worse things around here she could have found.

Still, he took the magazines away. "It's, umm…" for lack of better ideas, he gave his oldest excuse: "Research."

He heard Duck's smothered chuckle-cough behind him. He blindly reached back and slammed the window shut. From the pained hiss, it sounded like he caught a few of Duck's fingers in the process.

Good.

Screw Duck anyway.

"Here," he reached around for any alternative reading material. He snatched up the first two magazines he found and rolled them up—those were a little bit more scandalous than swimsuit editions. The next scroll was full of indecipherable fuinjutsu notes. "Read that."

"It's just pictures." Katsumi's brow scrunched in confusion, but she found the sealing patterns interesting enough to trace with her fingers.

Jiraiya swept up the abandoned swimsuit magazines and tossed them in the spare room. There. First crisis averted. He had what, 30 or 40 minutes before Chiyoko showed back up? Surely?

"Daddy, the tv is boring," Katsumi chirped. She discarded the scroll of fuinjutsu notes and slid to the floor, reaching for something under the couch-nope. Jiraiya swiped the body scroll—at least he could finally tell T &amp; I where that had gotten to—from the kid and gave her a notepad full of sketches of toads.

Katsumi silently considered the offering for three seconds and then tucked it under her arm and headed toward his kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

Jiraiya froze. Oh hell no.

Twenty minutes later, both Jiraiya and Katsumi were sitting at the kitchen table, solemnly staring at the soggy mess that was Jiraiya's attempt at making breakfast.

Somber green eyes met Jiraiya's gaze. "Mommy's coming back, right?"

"God, I hope so," moaned Jiraiya earnestly, letting his chin hit the tabletop.

* * *

"We are so late, so late, so late—" Jiraiya chanted as he darted out of the conibi, Katsumi balanced on one hip and happily munching on a riceball. "Why hello, ladies," he couldn't help but add as he held open the door for the two giggling women who were walking into the shop.

"Hi," echoed Katsumi around a mouthful of rice, hugging her rabbit close with the hand not holding her breakfast.

The shorter brunette hid her laugh behind the long sleeve of her kimono, but the taller woman smiled warmly up at him.

_This is new_. Jiraiya smiled back and lingered at the door, opening his mouth to say –

"Bye," interrupted Katsumi, awkwardly waving farewell around her stuffed toy.

"Hey now." Jiraiya furrowed his brow and frowned at his offspring. "Why are you in such a hurry, huh?"

"We're late." Katsumi beamed up at him cheerfully.

"She's cute," said the tall woman with the great smile, who had yet to go inside and was lingering in the doorway.

Jiraiya perked up. "Most of the time."

"She's yours?" asked the woman, brown eyes curious.

"I'm babysitting." Jiraiya leaned forward, "but only for a few hours; I'll be free this evening."

Another giggle. "Your babysitter is a flirt," the woman cooed as she addressed Katsumi .

Katsumi lowered her riceball and gazed solemnly at the woman. "He keeps dead bodies under the couch."

The woman paused, startled, brown eyes wide. She retracted the hand that had been reaching forward to pat Katsumi on the head.

"And that's our cue to leave. Have a good day!" The white haired sannin waved at the woman as he briskly backed away.

He scowled at his child as soon as they turned the corner. "Why'd you say that?"

Katsumi patted his cheek in sympathy. "Honesty is the best policy."

"How'd you even know what that scroll was anyways?" Muttered the toad sannin, eyes scanning the crowd for his quarry.

Katsumi huffed impatiently in his ear, twisting around so she could peer curiously behind him as they walked. "The scroll described a person, and a country, and then said 'date of death.' It's not like it was hard."

"You said you were still learning to read," grumbled Jiraiya.

"Oh, Daddy," Katsumi sighed dramatically and dropped her chin on his shoulder. "That was weeks ago."

"Who told you about body scrolls anyways?" Jiraiya scratched at the back of his neck in irritation.

"I read about it in the dictionary," quipped Katsumi.

"You did not," snorted Jiraiya. "Your Mom told me about that. I'm not going to take the book away from you if you admit where you learned it."

Katsumi shrugged. "Kashi-kun."

"The Hatake brat?"

"Uh-huh," Katsumi nodded. "He kept saying that's how I was going to get to Konoha if I didn't stop talking."

"Ummm…" that was somewhat concerning. "I don't think he actually knows how to do that yet, but maybe you should stop doing whatever it is you do that aggravates him that much." Surely no one had taught the kid fuinjutsu yet, no matter how prodigious he was. Minato would have mentioned it by now. "Besides, you should be nice to him. Hatake-kun could use some friends right now."

He could feel Katsumi curling up in a rebellious sulk at his words and he patted her back absently. It was hard to imagine Sakumo's son saying such a thing to a client. That one was all about following the rules and being professional. Certainly threatening the client went against what the kids were being taught in the Academy's client counselling classes. But the boy did graduate early, maybe Sakumo's kid didn't take that course? Surely Minato would have reprimanded the kid—speak of the devil.

"Oy, blond brat!" Jiraiya's yell was loud enough for everyone on the street to turn their heads toward the father and daughter pair.

Katsumi clapped her hands to her ears with a pout. "Too loud!" She pulled his hair in retaliation.

"Ouch, hey stop that!" Jiraiya bent his head toward his daughter to lessen the tension on his hair.

"I'm afraid you are fighting a losing battle, Katsumi-chan," said the aforementioned blond in amiable agreement. "The only volume at which Sensei can speak is the '5 mile bellow.'"

"Hey," said Jiraiya indignantly. "I can speak—" He winced at the pull of small fingers wound tightly in his hair and softened his voice petulantly. "I can speak quieter."

Minato chuckled with good humor. "And they say you can't teach old dogs new tricks."

Jiraiya huffed. "Who are you calling old, brat?" He lashed out quickly with his free hand and twisted Minato's ear. "I'm not old!"

"You're not old, you're not old!" Agreed Minato with a piteous whimper.

Katsumi giggled.

"Oh, you think that's funny do you?" Jiraiya let go of his older brat to tickle the younger one, who accordingly laughed louder at his actions. "That's the treatment hair-pullers can expect around here!"

Minato took the opportunity to back up out of Jiraiya's reach and massage his abused ear lobe. "You've got to stop doing that. 'Shina-chan is starting to do it too now and between the both of you I'll be lucky to have any ears left."

Jiraiya rolled his eyes. "Catch."

Minato blurred as he caught the squealing toddler tossed in his direction, clutching Katsumi to his chest as soon as he'd rescued her and her bunny rabbit from a rude collision with the dirt path.

Neither man responded to the concerned gasp of an elderly woman watching them as she passed by on her morning walk.

Jiraiya checked his nonexistent watch. "Sensei ordered me to his office about an hour ago, so I have to split."

Minato blinked in mild alarm. "Wait, what? Where's Chiyoko-san?"

Jiraiya shrugged. "Working, I suppose. Just get her back to her mom after the schools let out if I'm not back by then."

"But I'm not even—"

The toad sannin disappeared in a flurry of hand signs and leaves.

"On duty today," finished Minato with a slump of his shoulders. He let his head hang forlornly for a moment and then straightened with a sigh, adjusting the girl's weight in his arms. He softened his hold and looked down at her inquiringly when he realized she was stiff with tension. "What's wrong, Katsumi-chan?"

Katsumi's eyes were impossibly wide; her breath coming in quick huffs, fingers gripping her toy so tightly he could see the seams beginning to tear.

"Katsumi-chan?" Minato knelt so he could place the girl on her feet and look her directly in the face.

"I didn't say goodbye," she eventually muttered, trembling. "I didn't say goodbye."

"Katsumi-chan, it'll be fine. You'll see him soon. He just went to talk with Hokage-sama." Minato hadn't seen an anxiety attack in a child this young before, but he had enough dealings with stricken shinobi to recognize the symptoms he was seeing, even if he didn't know what had triggered it. Perhaps it was just the cumulative stress of recent events?

"Breathe Katsumi, slowly. Breath deep and slow, match your breath to the rhythm of my voice." He pushed the girl into a sitting position, falling back onto the medical lessons given to all shinobi of chūnin rank and above on how to handle panicking comrades. Surely some of it was applicable to small children?

"Remember that game you like? The song?" He continued talking, doing his best to keep his voice soothing and calm. "Let's count back from 100; you just focus on breathing slowly and counting with me when you can. Focus on the numbers: 100, 99, 98, 97—"

Katsumi's breathing began to even out in the 70s and her small voice eventually began to pipe up along with him. "63, 62, 61, 60..."

"There, now." He rubbed her arms reassuringly as he ended the counting at 55. Her breathing evened out and the tremors he could feel under his hands subsided. He waited patiently for her to talk to him, but she only buried her face in her rabbit and then pressed close to him.

Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her in the hug she was seeking, like how he'd seen Kushina-chan tend to Kakashi when the boy occasionally let his guard down.

"He didn't say goodbye," came Katsumi's chant, muffled against his vest. "He didn't say goodbye."

Minato bit his lip. "It will be fine Katsumi-chan. He'll be back before you know it."

Katsumi said nothing, but her breathing was normal and she seemed to be observing their surroundings and able to interact once more. He picked her up in his arms, deciding it was best to get back to establishing her new routine. Maybe that would help her nerves settle—or something.

He kept his tone light. "Well, it's my day off, but my team should still be meeting up for training today. I'll take you over to them." Minato smiled charmingly down at the four year old, only to notice that her big green eyes were taking on a teary tremble.

"Katsumi-chan," Minato prompted, hoping to get her to talk before she had another anxiety attack.

She hiccupped. "Nobody wants me today!"

"Oh geeze." Minato gulped. "No, no. That's not it at all! Everyone is just busy—"

Katsumi burst into tears.

"Great." Minato said dryly, awkwardly jostling the crying child. He smiled uncertainly at the grey haired couple giving him the stink eye across the road. "She's fine, really!"

XXX

Rin worried her lip as she watched Kakashi push Obito about the clearing during their 'spar.' Kakashi was just too fast for the older boy, continually managing to side swipe any punches or kicks and flash around to hit the Uchiha in his blind spots. She lowered her eyes to the medical notes in her lap. She was supposed to finish reading them before she reported in for her internship at the hospital this afternoon. She still had another five pages to memorize about the tendons and ligaments of the foot but—

Obito's chin hit the ground again with a painful sounding 'thwack.'

"Kakashi-kun, switch with me?" Rin stood and dusted bits of grass and dirt off the back of her skirt.

"Fine." The silver-haired six year old gave an aggravated huff, but pulled away from his opponent. "This wasn't going anywhere anyway."

"I was just about to turn the tables on you, you brat!" Obito rolled over and chucked a wad of dirt in Kakashi's direction.

The tiny chūnin dodged.

Rin couldn't help but smile as she helped pull Obito to his feet. Obito was the most resilient friend she had. She knew Kakashi's words got to him, but he hid it well and always bounced back.

"We just need to get your speed up, Obito-kun," she agreed cheerfully, falling into the starting position for her preferred fighting style. She preferred 'Crane' over Academy Basic. It really wasn't a clan secret or anything, most clans in Konoha had a shinobi or two proficient in this style. However, 'Crane' was the style her Aunt Honami had taken the time to teach her, promising Rin would grow into it even more with time. It allowed Rin to use her height and build to her advantage. She didn't, and would never have, the muscle mass to make an effective use of Academy Basic.

Obito grimaced. "I'm working on it. I've started joining my cousin Masaru on his morning runs. I'll ask him for tips on speed training too, tomorrow."

"I'm surprised you can wake up on time," retorted Kakashi.

Rin looked out the corner of her eye, watching as the younger boy dug through his pack, looking for kunai for target practice, most likely.

"You could ask Sensei," she suggested, blocking Obito's forward thrust and dancing out of his reach.

Obito puffed out his cheeks.

"No chipmunk face." Rin smiled as Obito's cheeks puffed out even further at the reminder. Rin's favored style was faster than his too. Eventually, Obito's taijutsu would likely outstrip both of his teammates. The Uchiha's taijutsu form was made to complement the Sharingan, which Obito didn't have yet. But the Uchiha clan still insisted that its young members use the clan style rather than Academy Basic, so no bad habits carried over once their bloodline was awakened. Once he awoke his Sharingan, muscle memory for Academy Basic would do more harm than good.

This meant that Obito was stuck practicing with a taijutsu form that he couldn't fully utilize and which left him open to certain hits which he couldn't currently protect from. Sadly, the bottom line was that It would take her friend a few years and an awoken dōjutsu to really come into his own and have any hope of matching Kakashi. When he did though, he'd likely have the muscles to put more power in his hits than either she or Kakashi could hope to match.

Obito managed a solid grab on Rin's wrists and pulled her into a throw over his shoulder. He always softened his tosses though, and Rin wound up laughing as she rolled onto her back in the grass.

"Like that's going to suffice against opponents." Their little storm-cloud observer grumbled moodily as he spun a kunai around a finger.

Kakashi, of course, had mastered Academy Basic and Crane and two other styles already. He switched freely between them, which just served to confuse his partners even more. It was an excellent asset for him—even if it wasn't so good for his teammates' egos.

Obito kept trying to convince her that Kakashi earned his promotion solely because all of his opponent's traps and blows had been aimed for someone two feet taller, but Rin would admit that Kakashi was skilled enough to have earned the promotion. He was still only six though, and hadn't yet grasped the concept that time spent helping Obito improve would eventually increase the quality of Kakashi's own training.

"Take it easy, Brat," Obito flicked a rock his way. "It's our day off anyway."

Rin leaned up on her elbows and watched the boy. It was their day off. But Kakashi never took a day off, and Sensei had asked them to keep an eye on him considering recent events. So, she and Obito found themselves at the training grounds rain or shine, watching their youngest member trying to beat his anger and grief into the earth.

"Iwa's not taking the day off," Kakashi snapped back, tossing his kunai at Obito.

Obito yelped and skipped back a few steps, dodging the continued barrage of projectiles.

"Mrgghh," Obito groaned as he jumped. "Can't you be politically ignorant like a normal child?" Obito squeaked as senbon were introduced to the 'game.' "It's not like they're going to be sending _us_ to the frontlines to fight Iwa-nin!"

Rin rose to her feet and sighed as she chased after them, grabbing her med pack on the way. Weaponry practice always turned messy when Sensei wasn't around. She wished she was as confident as Obito was about the future. She remembered the statistics courses from the Academy and the manpower estimates of the various hidden villages. If war really broke out in earnest, then the only things keeping them from being sent to the frontlines would be Obito's dormant bloodline and Kakashi's youth. Neither of those would last forever.

The Village expected great things from this team. She could only hope that they had enough time to grow to meet those expectations. _Still_—"It's not going to do anyone any good if you train yourself to exhaustion Kakashi-kun," she hollered up at them both as Obito took to the trees.

_Great_. Obito hadn't mastered tree-walking yet like Kakashi-kun. He was going to fall on top of his damn head. She rubbed her forehead fretfully as she tracked their fight from the ground.

"You're supposed to rest on days off and do light training, so that you're fully prepared for missions!" She knew her efforts were wasted, but at least it felt like she was doing _something _when she screamed advice at them.

She spun about when she heard the crash of a body falling and roughly jostling foliage. She ran to Obito, who was flailing, trying to regain his balance in an unforgivingly thorny berry bush.

"Calm down," she grabbed his arms. "Be careful or you'll just get tangled up worse." She cautiously began to maneuver the boy out of the bush's grasp. In her peripheral vision, she saw Obito's dark eyes widen in alarm. Suddenly she was roughly pushed down as Obito threw himself over her, the thunk of a kunai embedding into the tree trunk where their heads had been only moments before ringing sharply in her ears.

Rin twisted, enraged. "Stop it, Kakashi!" She yelled out at the tree, glaring as the boy sulked into her line of sight. "I was a medic assisting the injured; you've got to learn to respect the end of a spar. If you keep going too far like this I'll tell Sensei!"

Rin's eyes and cheeks were heated as she attempted to stare down the younger boy. Kakashi avoided eye contact mulishly, not appearing to be sorry in the slightest.

"We're your teammates you dumb-ass," hissed Obito, his own temper flaring. "We're supposed to support you on missions but we can't do that if you take our heads off in practice because you're careless!"

Rin tightened her fists in Obito's jacket, heart sinking as Kakashi sniffed dismissively, opening his mouth to most likely retort that he'd be better without them anyway—

"Is everything alright?" A familiar voice asked, cutting through the tension.

Kakashi's mouth shut with a click—or it would have, if the click hadn't been muffled by his mask. He crossed his hands behind his head and looked away from Sensei, who was suddenly perched above them in a tree limb.

Rin swallowed, counted to ten in her head, and took a step away from Obito. She looked up at Sensei briefly, and then down at her hands.

"Everything's fine," Obito finally muttered in the strained quiet. He looked away as Rin untangled her apron from the thorn bush.

Rin nodded her agreement and busied herself with getting Obito's jacket free from the enemy foliage.

"Really?" Sensei's question was light. "Because it looks like you're all pretty upset to me."

Rin only became aware that Sensei was expecting her to answer when the two boys remained silent. She pulled out the bandages from her med-pack, along with some anti-septic. "It's fine," she agreed, treating a particularly long (but shallow) gash on Obito's arm, where a kunai had managed to slice through the fabric. "Kakashi-kun just got a little carried away at the end of a spar, that's all." Kakashi was six. Surely she and Obito could figure out how to reach him without having Sensei intervene on every occasion. As disturbing as Kakashi acted sometimes, he was still a little kid with a lot to learn. She pursed her lips and tied off the bandage, moving to dab some of the antiseptic onto Obito's wincing face.

Sensei hummed low in his throat, the noise he made when he wasn't buying what they were saying but wasn't going to challenge them on it at the moment. "I suppose it's a good time for the spar to end then, because I need you to start on that mission we talked about yesterday."

"What mission?"

She heard Kakashi's suspicious grumble at the same time Obito yanked his head up and out of her hands, eyes narrowing as he examined their Sensei more closely.

"Oh, hey Katsumi-chan!" Obito greeted their guest with his usual boisterous enthusiasm, bounding forward. "Why are you hiding over there?"

Rin twisted her jar of anti-septic cream shut and packed up her supplies before joining the group.

"Why is _she _here?" Kakashi stayed behind his teammates, glaring darkly at the youngest person in the clearing.

Sensei jumped down from the tree, swinging Katsumi away from where she was hiding in his shadow and setting her on her feet in front of them.

"Hi," Katsumi said softly, muffling her face in the large rabbit they'd become accustomed to her carrying around.

Obito laughed and bent down to try and coax the girl out of her sudden shyness.

Rin pasted on a smile for the girl. It wasn't her fault she'd come across them during a rather tense moment. Although, certainly news of this mission wasn't going to help Kakashi's temper any.

"Minato-Sensei," insisted Kakashi impatiently. "Why is she here?"

Minato stood, leaving Katsumi to Obito's soft cajoling.

"You're going to be watching Katsumi-chan from now on, whenever her parents are unable to do so." The blond jōnin gestured toward the small girl.

"What?" Kakashi's voice was flat, silver eyes hard.

"Katsumi's parents are both busy working and can't watch her all the time," Sensei repeated. "Hokage-sama has asked our team to watch her when needed, at least until she's old enough to officially start the Academy."

Kakashi turned his glare upon their teacher. "She's four, she can start now. I _graduated_ at five."

"You're from a shinobi family, Kakashi." Sensei's explanation carried a tinge of amusement. "Katsumi-chan has a little more adjusting to do. And her mother would like her to wait until the new school year starts and she can enroll with all the other children her age."

"No, no, no." Kakashi shook his head, unkempt mop of gray hair swinging to and fro, not unlike one of his shaggy ninken. "We don't want this mission, take it back."

Obito snorted. "I'm fine with this mission. Aren't you Rin-chan?"

Rin blinked at the question, took a breath to agree—

"Take her _back_." Kakashi emphasized his words by pointing rudely at the girl.

Rin's eyes widened as Katsumi wilted, curling against Obito dejectedly.

"That's enough Kakashi." Minato's rebuke was sharp, and cut the chūnin's tantrum off abruptly.

Rin cleared her throat. "How long will be watching her today Sensei? Is someone coming to pick her up, or are we taking her home?"

Sensei stared hard at Kakashi until the boy looked away in submission. The blond leaned back and ran a weary hand across the back of his head. "I don't know really. Chiyoko-san went in for a job interview this morning at a school and we think she was asked to start immediately. She should be back around the time the civilian schools let out. Why not have her home in the late afternoon—but don't leave her until Chiyoko-san comes home."

Rin nodded at the instructions, taking a notepad out of her med pack to scribble down the address that Sensei gave them. After a quick glance between Obito and Kakashi, Sensei handed her Katsumi's spare apartment key for safe-keeping too.

Rin giggled at Obito's pout.

"That's fine," sniffed Obito, picking up Katsumi and resting the girl on his hip. "I'm the fun one anyway. Can't be fun and responsible." He winked at their charge.

Rin narrowed her eyes at him. She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue. She was on a mission, that wouldn't be professional.

"We're getting paid for this right?" Kakashi scuffed his foot against the ground bitterly.

"Yes, you're getting D-rank pay," drawled Sensei. "And because this mission is intermittent and long-term, you're allowed to continue any training or take other missions which wouldn't interfere with this mission's objective."

Kakashi perked up at that and Rin carefully hid her wince. _That might not be_ _such a good idea._

Minato smiled cheerfully at them. "As long as Katsumi is being taken care of you can do what you want." Something made him jerk with a start, and he looked over his shoulder with a guilty expression.

Rin turned, but couldn't tell what had distracted him.

Sensei clapped his hands and gave a slight bow. "I'm very, very late for a meeting, though, soIreallyneedtogo—"

Sensei vanished.

Rin blinked.

"Huh." Obito let Katsumi-chan slide to the ground so he could scratch at his head. "That was weird."

Kakashi looked blankly in the direction their teacher had fled. "I believe he's late for lunch with Uzumaki-san," the boy finally revealed.

Obito barked a laugh. "Better him than us."

Rin felt her lips twitch. "Was Kushina-san supposed to cook?"

"No."

Kakashi sounded understandably relieved. Kushina-san usually passed on any left-overs to her boyfriend's students. And then she eagerly badgered them for reports on how they liked the meals with cheery, wide-eyed anticipation and a slightly manic twitch in her right hand which promised _retribution _should the answer be one she did not want to hear.

"Well, Katsumi-chan," Obito grinned down at the child. "What do you want to do today?"

"Who cares," Kakashi interrupted snidely, not giving the smaller girl a chance to speak. "We can do whatever _we_ want as long as we keep an eye on her." He marched away, heading back to the clearing in which they'd left the bulk of their equipment.

Rin met Obito's glance and shrugged helplessly, grabbing her medical bag and hurrying to catch up with the younger boy.

Obito frowned. "I don't think that's what Sensei meant." He called from behind them, moving slowly so Katsumi might match his pace.

"He said we could train and watch her," Kakashi jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the girl's direction. "I'm going to train. You and Rin watch her."

Rin scowled. "It's a team assignment Kakashi, we're supposed to watch her as a team. You can't just dump that on Obito and I, we have to train and watch her together if that's the plan."

"Whatever," Kakashi shrugged. He knelt down to pack up his kunai. "I'm going to work on chakra control, are you coming Loser?"

Obito hesitated, looking down at Katsumi and then frowning at Rin.

Rin rubbed her temples, trying to relieve the building pressure. Inviting Obito to train was as close as Kakashi ever came to apologizing for his behavior. "Fine." She held out her hand and beckoned for Katsumi to come toward her. "You both stay here though, don't leave the clearing. Katsumi and I will stay with the packs and watch you."

She heard the boys start up their usual quarrel as she took Katsumi's small hand in her own and walked them over to the packs. She peeked at the younger girl out of the corner of her eyes as she retrieved her medical notes and sank to the ground.

"You're awfully quiet today, Katsumi-chan, is everything ok?" Rin tugged at the girl's bunny teasingly, but the smaller girl didn't respond. Her unusually serious green eyes were studying the boys as Kakashi once again tried to explain the tree-walking exercise to an agitated Obito.

Rin left her alone to her observations, turning to her own assignment and finding the spot where she'd left off—

"Can we learn that?"

Katsumi's small voice commandeered Rin's attention and she let her gaze follow Katsumi's pointing fingers, to where Obito was slowly making his way up the tree as Kakashi ran circles around him.

"No, not until you're a genin, Katsumi-chan."

The four year old curled up in sulk at her words, fingers clenching the fur of her rabbit tightly.

Rin sighed. "I know it's kind of boring today, but I promise it won't always be like this. I have to study for a quiz tonight, but I'll start bringing things for you to do from now on, ok?"

"Ok," Katsumi muttered reluctantly, sounding slightly rebellious.

Rin smiled at her. "Thank you, I really appreciate you being so good today. It's very helpful, and I promise to be more entertaining next time you come."

Katsumi pursed her lips, but settled back down next to her, resuming her quiet watchfulness.

Rin hid her grin and looked back at her notes. She didn't know what Kakashi's problem was with the girl. Katsumi was very logical, and had an appreciation for negotiations. As long as she understood that there would be a reward for her cooperation she was ea**s**y enough to mind. Kastumi also enjoyed getting a rise out of people, however. And Kakashi seemed unable to grasp that any visible reaction was a point in some type of game that Katsumi had set up between the two.

Katsumi didn't seem to be concerned that Kakashi was unaware of the game.

Or the score.

Rin turned her attention back to memorizing the arrangement of the 26 bones, 33 joints, and 100 or so tendons and muscles and ligaments which made up a human foot.

Rin didn't stop reading until her stomach audibly grumbled in protest, distracting her from learning about how to treat stress fractures with bone grafting and causing her to look up at the sun.

_It's way past lunch_. She felt a bit guilty. Katsumi was probably really hungry. She'd been studying for over an hour, but she'd meant to interrupt the boys after thirty minutes so that they could all eat together. She put aside her notes and ruffled through her pack for the bento boxes she'd made that morning. She'd only made three, but Katsumi didn't eat much.

She frowned when she realized a lid of one of the boxes was ajar. All the food was still there, but, "Katsumi, were you in my bag?" She twisted to look over her shoulder—

Katsumi was gone.

Rin felt her stomach fall to the soles of her sandals. She dropped her pack, all thoughts of lunch forgotten.

She licked her lips nervously, fingers reflexively grasping for her weapons. Katsumi had been sitting right next to her. They were deep in Konoha, surrounded by training fields where other, more highly ranked and attentive ninja were on high alert doing training exercised. It was highly unlikely Katsumi was kidnapped. She'd been watching the boys; she'd probably just followed them when their training took them farther from the clearing.

She swallowed and scrambled the hundred feet to where Kakashi and Obito's spar had devolved into a mud bath.

"Take that you little monster—" Obito stopped short. "Oh, hi Rin." He shoved the hand holding the ball of mud behind him, only for Kakashi to sweep his feet out from under him and send the Uchiha boy sprawling on his back.

"Where's Katsumi-chan!" Rin stared intensely at the pair.

"With you." Kakashi rose to his feet grudgingly, taking in his teammate's near hysteria.

"No, she's not there anymore!" Rin fretted. "I thought she followed you over here."

"Not again." Obito groaned, sitting up and slapping an exasperated hand to his face.

Kakashi's fingers were already flying through his summoning sequence.

"Don't worry," Obito attempted to reassure her, holding out placating hands. "She can't have gone far; she doesn't have any idea where she is."

"That's not a good thing!" She snapped at the boy. _Why does it feel like I'm the only one with a brain on this team sometimes!? _ "No one is keeping an eye out for misplaced four year olds wandering the training grounds!"

"Ok, yeah, that's a fair point." Obito adjusted his goggles.

Rin swallowed her temper and tore after Kakashi and Pakkun.

* * *

"Are you sure nothing exciting happened on your last mission?" Kushina swirled her chopsticks through her food with a pout.

Minato laughed. "I'm afraid not. It was terribly, terribly boring."

Kushina made a face as she finished up her companion's ramen. "I was _so_ hoping you had at least _something_ interesting to talk about." _Ughh_, he was lucky he was so pretty.

"Hey!" Minato smiled gently. "I have plenty of interesting things to talk about."

"Nu-uh," contested Kushina, frowning as Minato signaled for the bill. "You're such a goody-two-shoes, everything you do is exactly by the book. You could just tell me what type of mission you did and I bet I could tell you exactly what happened on it, dattebane."

"That's how missions are supposed to go, you know." Minato waved his finger at her, grinning brightly. "Not every mission is supposed to be an exciting adventure filled with heroes and villains and stories—"

"Of course every mission is a grand adventure," Kushina scoffed in disbelief. "You're not doing it right if you don't come back with a stor—"

"Excuse me?"

"Eh?" Kushina stopped berating her boyfriend and looked over her shoulder at the man interrupting them.

A dark-haired jōnin stared back at them impassively. Well, stared at Minato impassively. She wasn't being paid any attention to at all. _Too pretty by far_. She stabbed a piece of pork viciously.

"Ren-san," greeted Minato with a friendly nod.

"I'm sorry Namikaze-san, she says she's yours." The strange jōnin continued, drawing Kushina's attention once more as he pointed down to his feet.

Correction. To a little girl standing next his feet, looking adorable in a pink summer yukata as she clutched a large, purple stuffed rabbit. Kushina's eyes widened with curiosity at the same time Minato's narrowed.

"Katsumi-chan?" Minato frowned down at the girl. "I don't understand, she's supposed to be with my team."

"Hi, hi!" The little girl chirped brightly up at the three jōnin as Kushina leaned forward in interest.

"We found her wandering around Training Ground 8." Ren-san's voice was stiff, the faintest hint of disapproval coloring his professional demeanor. "If your team was supposed to be watching her, I'd suggest you have them review the fundamentals of babysitting. Like the one that says don't lose the baby."

"Right." Minato's usually easy grin was forced and the twitch of his hands told her how badly he wanted to grab his students by the back of their shirts and knock their heads together.

Minato _hated_ being thought of as unprofessional.

Kushina mentally chortled to herself in amusement as she observed the chipper toddler, who was peering curiously back at her as if she'd never seen a kunoichi before.

She tuned back in to hear the tail-end of Minato's strained babble of promises about making sure this didn't happen again and yes he knew how dangerous it was for unaccompanied children to be wandering around shinobi training grounds and of course he'd speak to his students—

"Hey, Mina-kun," she nudged his shoulder companionably; voice a loud stage-whisper. "When were you going to introduce me to your secret love-child?" She pointed to the girl.

"What!?" Minato blinked in wide-eyed alarm. "No! She's not, I mean—" he stammered, hands flapping ineffectively as they always did when he was flustered. "She's not mine like that!"

Ren-san rolled his eyes and walked away, apparently uninterested in the juiciest part of this gossip.

"It's perfectly ok, dattebane." Kushina patted his shoulder consolingly. "Accidents happen, and she's a pretty cute one as far as accidents go."

"She's not _mine_!" Minato squawked, voice high and feminine.

"Nii-san, nii-san, I want lunch!"

Kushina looked down at the girl who was now tugging on her boyfriend for attention. "Oh no you don't, you little thief!" She pulled the girl onto her lap. "That's my boyfriend; he buys my lunch, not yours!" She tapped the girl's nose in reprimand.

Green eyes focused on her face briefly, before sliding to her hair. "I like your hair; it's so long and bright!" The girl's hands followed her eyes and soon she was examining a long strand of Kushina's hair with the fascination and lack of appreciation for physical boundaries that only a child could have. Or an Uzumaki. Huh, Cutie fit right in.

"Ok," Kushina gave an exaggerated sigh, hoisting the girl up a bit so she could reach the countertop easily. "Maybe I can share my lunch with a cutie like you." She winked at Teuchi-san and waved for another bowl.

Minato was still spluttering, probably trying to decide which issue to address first—his team's failure to corral one small child or his girlfriend's accusations of paternity.

"What's your rabbit's name, huh?" Kushina tugged the soft ears of the toy, flicking them up in the girl's face.

"Usagi-nee-chan," replied the kid, face serious as Teuchi-san set a small bowl down before her.

"I bet she makes a good sister, huh? Can't steal any of your clothes?" Kushina tugged one of the girl's loose curls.

"Mom said I can't have a real sister, so I have Usagi instead." Katsumi struggled to hold her chopsticks and Kushina gently corrected her grip. "Usagi-chan goes everywhere with me."

"That. Is adorable." The red-head turned pleading eyes on her boyfriend, who'd finally managed to pull himself together. "I can keep her, right?"

Minato ignored her. "Katsumi-chan, " he dropped his elbows on the counter. "What are you doing here, hmm?"

"I'm hungry!" The little girl beamed up at him as she swallowed a mouthful of noodles.

"Yeah, Mina-kun!" Kushina snorted. "It's lunchtime, 'ttebane. Way to ask such obvious questions! Where else would she go but the BEST RAMEN STAND IN THE COUNTRY!" That last part was a bit louder than was probably considered appropriate. Or polite. Her heart squirmed in glee when the girl looked up at her without a flinch and continued munching on her food.

"But why aren't you getting lunch with Obito and Rin and Kakashi-kun?" Minato's smile grew thin. "They were supposed to be watching you so I could have my meeting with Kushina-san."

Kushina's grin broadened. It was precious how possessive he could get of their 'date' time—once she eventually got him to show up, that was.

"I got lost." Katsumi-chan shrugged, apparently unconcerned with that fact. "And then I got hungry."

Minato rested his head on his palm. "And you didn't ask to be returned to the team or tell the ninja where they were training because…?"

Katsumi peered innocently up at him, chewing on her chopsticks for a minute before answering. "But nii-san, Daddy left me with _you_."

Minato groaned, bottom lip beginning to dip in a pout.

"This lunch is better anyway," she added as an afterthought.

Kushina squealed and tugged the girl closer to her, wrapping her arms around her and rubbing her cheek against her head. "She's so adorable! I want one! I'm keeping her!"

"You can't keep her, Kushina, she's got two perfectly capable parents." Minato's voice was dry and resigned as he forked out the extra cash for Katsumi's bowl. "And I don't think she can breathe like that."

Kushina relaxed her grip on the girl, who wheezed a bit, but still didn't run away. She ran her hand through the girl's brown curls reassuringly. "She likes my hair _and _ramen, dattebane!

"I like your hair," grumbled Minato.

"Nii-san's supposed to watch me while my Daddy's gone." Katsumi piped up, turning in Kushina's lap so she faced both jōnin now that her meal was finished.

"Oh? How long is that then?" Kushina asked, continuing to pet the girl as if she were one of Kakashi-kun's ninken. She noticed Minato perking up in alarm at the same time the girl's eyes started watering.

"I don't know, he didn't say goodbye—"

"Today, Katsumi-chan," Minato hastily interrupted, cutting off what he seemed to know would be an upsetting topic. "I'm sure you'll see him tonight. He just went to talk to the Hokage; I'm sure he'd come say goodbye if he was leaving for a mission."

Kushina narrowed her eyes at the man. She knew him well enough to know when he was lying through his teeth.

"You promise?" Katsumi's voice was wobbly, green eyes ever so sad.

Minato hesitated.

Katsumi hiccupped.

"I promise!" Minato scrambled, hands fluttering. "I'll make sure he says goodbye before he goes on a mission. I'll bring him back myself if he doesn't!"

"Ok!" Katsumi chirped brightly, demeanor doing a complete 180 degree turn.

"Oh ho ho, you little scammer." Kushina tickled the girl's sides lightly, eliciting squeaky giggles. "That was quite good. You and I, we need to talk later."

"No." Minato contradicted flatly. "No you don't. The last thing I need is you two conspiring against me—

"Sensei! Sensei have you seen—"

Kushina watched in amusement as Minato's three students skid to a halt in front of them. All were out of breath and pink-cheeked from running.

"Your charge?" drawled Minato.

"Found her," barked Pakkun. Belatedly.

"Puppy!" Katsumi cheered and Kushina let the wiggly thing down to run and pet the dog.

"Would you like to explain why it seems like a chūnin and two perfectly capable genin have failed a D rank babysitting mission?" Minato didn't sound as amused as his question was phrased.

"No!" Snapped Kakashi, leaning forward to bat at Katsumi's hands. "Don't pet him!"

"Ohlordjustletherpetthedog," cried Obito in defeated exasperation.

"Kakashi!" Minato snapped. "Listen when I address you!"

"Katsumi, we had an agreement!" There was a sad hint of betrayal in Rin's voice and the dismayed droop of her shoulders.

Katsumi continued to pet the dog. "No meeting of the minds. Failure of consideration. No contract."

Kushina paused, as did her boyfriend.

Minato shook his head. "I have no idea what that means Katsumi, but you do have to behave for the team."

"Why?" Katsumi continued to play with the dog, giving what appeared to be a much appreciated ear rub.

"Because," Minato floundered, slid his dark blue gaze over to Kushina in desperation.

Kushina sucked through the straw of her empty drink. Loudly.

"Because I said so!" Minato finally settled on saying. "That's just how it works."

_Oh my poor darling pretty boy. You have so much to learn. _

Katsumi's hum was not promising. The dog rolled over for a belly rub.

"Stop it." Hissed Kakashi at the ninken, arms clenched at his side in an 'at-attention' posture.

"You stop it," snapped Obito, adjusting his goggles. "This wouldn't have happened if you'd just let her play with the dog in the first place."

"My ninken aren't pets!"

"Can't you stop fighting for two seconds," moaned Rin, in uncharacteristic frustration.

"Now this," Kushina nodded, catching Minato's put upon gaze. "This is totally a story, dattebane."

"Nope." Minato shook his head. "Not a story. Nothing here to talk about at all."

"Nii-san," interrupted Katsumi loudly, still petting a content Pakkun, whose left leg was kicking uselessly in the air. "Did you know Daddy keeps dead bodies under the couch?"

All three of the brats-in-training looked at the youngest child in alarm.

"Myghrrr." Minato moaned inarticulately and rested his head on the counter.

"You," Kushina raised her empty glass to the youngest girl in a toast. "You may call me nee-san, my minion."

"Oy," Obito perked up. "She's our minion, not yours."

"You can have her," assured Kakashi, at the same time.

"Oh, Mina-kun, " Kushina gushed, spinning Katsumi around as if holding out an exhibit of joy. "This is the best birthday present ever!"

"It is not your birthday," corrected Minato. "And that is not a present."

"She's so adorable and she's gonna follow me around—"

"That is a small child." Minato gestured at the pair. "A very willful small child."

"My own little fluffy adorable duckling—" Kushina cooed and cuddled the bewildered girl.

"This will not go well," Minato warned.

"Shut up," Kushina snapped, hair frizzing out in anger. "You have Kakashi. This one's mine." She resumed babbling joyful nonsense at her newest toy.

Minato made a small squeaky noise but wisely refrained from anymore verbal commentary.

"Ok," Rin piped up, voice uncertain. "But she has to be home by five."

Minato rolled his head and rubbed the base of his neck in weary resignation.

* * *

"Thank you for letting us watch her today, she was such a joy!" Kushina gave a blinding, beatific grin at their hostess as she perched on the sofa with her tea.

"A joy," Minato echoed next to her, the twitch of his eye unnoticeable to the civilian woman across from them.

"I'm glad it went well," replied Chiyoko-san, smiling back. "And I'm really glad to hear you'll be helping watch her from now on Kushina-san. Minato-san seems so busy and his students, well, Katsumi-chan and Kakashi-kun seem to rub each other the wrong way, so to speak." She paused, taking a dainty sip from her own ceramic cup. "Anyway, I'm glad to know there's someone else looking out for her. Especially another woman."

Minato made a noise of protest, which Kushina cut off by stepping on his foot.

"I just really don't know anything about being a kunoichi, and I want her to have someone older who she can go to if she has any questions that I can't answer." Chiyoko ran her hand through her daughter's hair.

Katsumi sat next to her mother, content to draw with colored pencils while the adults talked. She kept all her pencils in a neat, particular order, picking up one at a time and setting it back in the same position from which she retrieved it.

"I know she has that medic-nin for a godmother, but she seemed so intimidating," Chiyoko's brows furrowed in thought, as if trying to recall a name.

"Medic nin?" Kushina prompted politely. _How disappointing. _She didn't want to step on someone's toes, some kunoichi could be awfully possessive about family members, even when it came to simple things like babysitting once a week or so—

Minato choked on his drink. Kushina helpfully whacked him on the back a few times.

The blond glared at her a bit, almost losing his grip on his tea.

She rolled her eyes. _Ungrateful pretty bastard._

"She's talking about Tsunade-sama," added Minato dryly, leaning forward to gently set down his cup on the tray.

"Tsunade-sama!" Kushina's eyes lit up and she leaned forward, scooting to the very edge of the couch. "She's my cousin, 'ttebane!"

"Really?" Chiyoko looked amused by the redhead's enthusiasm.

"Well, like a zillion times removed or something, but that means we're practically related!" Kushina squealed and jumped forward to throw her arms around the civilian woman, babbling excitedly about how much fun they were going to have now that they were in Konoha. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Minato making a gesture that was either meant to reassure Chiyoko that Kushina's behavior was normal or indicated that yes, he knew Kushina was crazy and he was refusing to help.

She was going to be a good girlfriend and give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Nee-san, Mommy can't breathe!"

Kushina retreated at the insistent tugging on her skirt and traded her grasp on the older Kinoshita for the younger one, pulling the child into her lap.

"Sorry, sorry." Kushina waved an embarrassed hand at the woman when she realized how winded she looked. "I forget my own strength sometimes!"

"It's fine," Chiyoko graciously accepted the apology, smoothing out some wrinkles in her dress.

"Anyway," Kushina cleared her throat. "That's so great to hear about your job, dattebane. It sounds like your first day here was pretty awesome. How'd you meet Tsunade-sama? I didn't know she had relations in Grass County. I'm glad you got out before things got bad, though."

Chiyoko's face took on a pained expression. "We're glad to be here, thank you."

Kushina internally grimaced. Looks like she'd hit on a painful topic by accident. She hoped the other woman would forgive her.

"I'm afraid you misunderstand though," the school-teacher pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "We're not related to Tsunade-sama, Katsumi's father chose her as godmother."

"Katsumi-chan's father?" Kushina carefully didn't look at the few photographs that were placed around the sparsely decorated apartment. She'd already noted that none of them contained a shinobi who could be the missing parent. And Katsumi must have one shinobi parent, she noticed the seals on the door and a fast-tracked genin team was a bit overkill for civilian babysitting duty. She would have assumed the man was dead—but Minato had talked as if Katsumi had two living parents.

Chiyoko's green eyes slid uncertainly to Minato, as if requesting permission to talk more on the subject.

"Don't tell me," Kushina turned her own suspicious gaze on the blond jōnin. "She really is yours!"

"No!" Minato's face turned red and Chiyoko mirrored the man's protests.

"Katsumi's father is classified, Kushina-chan." Minato sounded exasperated and he took a moment to take a deep breath and return to his default mask of serenity. "I brought you here so you could learn about him safely since you're insisting on getting to know her and would certainly find out sooner or later and yes, Chiyoko-san, you can share this information with Kushina-san or anyone else we bring to meet you in your home. The seals here protect us from simple eavesdropping, so you can talk freely in your house."

"Oh," Chiyoko's shoulders sank in relief. "I didn't know that, thank you."

Minato nodded, composed and professional once more.

"What's with all the secrecy?" Kushina gave a dramatic sigh and rested her chin on top of Katsumi-chan's head. She was joking; of course, nothing was as entertaining as a good soap opera. "You'd think Hokage-sama was sneaking in an illicit daughter, with the way you two are acting."

Minato glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Jiraiya," he finally offered.

Kushina blinked at him.

"Not the Hokage's," he clarified, gesturing to the girl in her lap. "She's Jiraiya's."

Kushina looked down at the girl, who tilted her head back to peer up at the red-headed kunoichi with her mother's green eyes.

"And mine," added Chiyoko firmly.

"Of course," Minato acknowledged with a tilt of his head.

_Huh_.

"You," Kushina tapped the girl on her nose. "You are so lucky you take after your Mother, 'ttebane."

Katsumi grinned up at her and Chiyoko gave one borderline hysterical laugh before downing the rest of her tea in one gulp.

"You know what this means?" She addressed the room at large with a conspiratorial whisper.

"What?" Katsumi asked curiously.

"I really am your nee-san!" Kushina's squeal was loud and high as she clutched Katsumi tightly. "We're going to have so much fun!"

Minato tensed. "Not too much fun."

"We'll get to gang up on the boys and—"

"Wait? Why?" Minato straightened in alarm. "We've done nothing—"

"bake together, I've got so many recipes to try, dattebane, and—"

"Chiyoko-san is perfectly capable of feeding her own child." Minato looked to the girl's mother for help. "In fact, she might have some new recipes for you to learn—"

Chiyoko looked at the pair, clearly torn between a desire to retrieve her offspring and fear of interfering in matters she didn't understand.

"Ah," Minato opened his mouth. Closed it. Blew out of a large puff of air and gave Kushina up as a lost cause, turning to address their hostess with an apologetic bow. "I'm so sorry, she gets carried away when she's excited."

"Should I be worried?" Chiyoko held out her hand as if considering separating the pair.

"Not at all." Minato shook his head; waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry, she'll calm down in a minute and we'll leave you be. Ninja tend to have their eccentricities. Kushina's is a tendency to be dramatically enthusiastic."

"Oh good," Chiyoko gave a weak smile. "I'd hate for her to be kidnapped again."

"Again?" Kushina snapped to attention at the word, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend. "What does she mean kidnapped again?"

"Nii-san let the bad ninja take me away." Katsumi played with the edge of Kushina's sleeve.

"What?" Kushina's voice was flat, lavender eyes hard.

"Let is…" Minato shook his head, still not making eye contact. "Not the word I'd use. A bit strong of a—"

"The bad ninja gave me something to sleep and it made me sick and then I got away and I hid until Obito-kun and 'Kashi-kun found me." Katsumi blinked up at her innocently. "And then nii-san showed up."

"Nii-san would appreciate if Katsumi-chan remembered that extra dessert she asked for." Minato rubbed the back of his head and looked at the kitchen clock. "And look at the time—"

"Nii-san should remember that extra dessert was only for Mommy," Katsumi-retorted cheerfully.

"Nii-san thinks that's a very broad interpretation—"

"Wow, it _is_ getting late, look at that time." Kushina set Katsumi down gently and patted her on the head. "Nii-san and nee-san need to be leaving because clearly they need to have a TALK about how traumatizing kidnapping can be—" she grabbed a wincing Minato by the arm and hauled him out of the apartment, barely remembering to give a strained thank you to their bewildered hostess.

* * *

Rev. 5/8/16

A/N:

**1\. What type of story is this?**

Well, considering that I'm experimenting with many things in this story, it's easier to tell you what this is not. It's not a fix-it fic. It's more of a 'ripple effect' fic. The focus isn't on Katsumi and you won't see things from her pov. This is not an quick fic. This is not an action heavy or plot heavy fic. This is not a super-power fic. This is not a 'let's religiously stick to canon fic.' This is not a fic where the author tries to make the story perfect because she's practicing to be a professional author fic.

This fic will focus on interpersonal relationships and character development and psychology. It may seem slow to people who want action heavy fics or fast-paced fics. This fic will not have pairings for Katsumi or be romance oriented. I'm aiming to end it around the end of the third war. If I finish it, and a sequel starts, then I might put pairings in a sequel. This fic treats canon Naruto as 'more like guidelines, really.' This fic will have occasional spelling/grammar mistakes because I don't care enough to go back and fix it.

If any of this bothers you, I suggest you find another story to read. There are plenty of wonderful other SI fictions out there.

**2\. What's up with your SI character?**

Katsumi is a four year old child with memories of a past life. However, I'm writing her from a slightly different theory than most self-inserts. Katsumi is limited by the biological development of her current body, including brain development. She's reacting to things as a four year old with extra memories about what should be the proper way of developing. Thus, she interprets her 'memories' more along the lines of dreams. She's just beginning to get to the point where she realizes that her 'dreams' can't actually be 'dreams.'

As she physically cannot process/react to her past memories as an adult would, the audience will see her act with childish immaturity. She will get frustrated when she can't learn something as quickly as she expects to and she will lash out like a four year old (with a better vocabulary). Thus, the unnecessary trolling of Kakashi. Adult Katsumi would be horrified at her merciless teasing of a boy who recently lost his father. Child Katsumi knows that Kakashi's dad is gone, but it doesn't really connect in her mind that she should be nice to him because of it and she's not yet questioning how she knows Kakashi's father is gone. Because she's had this 'extra' knowledge all her life, it doesn't seem unusual to her and she's never questioned how she knows certain things, before now.

So, when is Katsumi acting like a child and when is she actually being a child? I suppose that's a bit of the mystery then, isn't it?

**3\. Why doesn't Katsumi confide in an adult?**

Katsumi keeps secrets. She lies. She's manipulative. And at the same time, she is very loving and fiercely loyal to those close to her. Katsumi sees information as a type of currency. If she doesn't understand something—that's a lack of knowledge. It is the opposite of being valuable; it is a weakness and a liability.

Katsumi is not a horrible person for not wanting to be called a liar, or crazy, or for taking her time to understand what is going on, or finding foreign memories in her head confusing. And loving someone doesn't equate to sharing every detail of your innermost secret thoughts, you can love someone without requiring that of them.

**4\. Your SI is a bit of a brat.**

Yup. She's four, and an only child used to getting the majority of a devoted mother's attention. She also had good parents in her past life too. She fully expects Jiraiya to fall in line with the doting parent pattern, it doesn't dawn on her that he might be different. Also, she's got to have room to grow somehow, doesn't she?

If the SI's behavior bothers you, stop for a moment and think. You have no base to critique her for not being 'in character.' I'm the only one who gets to decide what's 'in character' or 'appropriate behavior' for Katsumi. She's bothering you because she doesn't conform to your expectations of a SI. I suggest you either go write your own story where the characters act the way you want them to or go find another story to read. Don't harass me because you don't like my SI. I will post your review on my tumblr and take it apart, quite publicly. You've been warned.

**5\. Gosh you're grouchy, do you even want reviews?**

If you liked the fic, I'd love for you to take a moment and tell me so. Why did you like it? Who are your favorite characters? Did something make you laugh? Did I tug at your heartstrings somewhere? Do you want more of certain characters (have I not done someone's pov in a while)? Those reviews I find useful and refreshing, and I re-read those reviews to find the energy to keep writing. Have a question about why I did x or why a character decided to do something? Feel free to ask, I'll either respond or try to make the answer clear in later chapters.

However, this is fanfic. If you don't like my interpretation of a character, go read something else. Too slow? Go read something else. You don't like OCs? Go read something else. Have an idea for a story kind of like this one? Go write it yourself.

**6\. Update Schedule?**

Expect slow updates, with large chapters. LOG chapters are averaging about to be 10k words per chapter. I try to write 1k words per week, and then it takes 1-2 weeks for review and edits prior to posting. That's approx. 2 months between chapters. The longer breaks in the past were due to me working on a prior fic that was wrapping up. That fic is done, I don't plan on starting anything new, so now LOG has my complete attention—fic writing wise. If you want to know where I am in writing a new chapter, or want a preview of the next chapter you should check my tumblr for such updates.

Why don't I write more? I'm an adult in a single person household. I have a high stress job and a mortgage. I write fic because it's fun and it exercises a different part of my brain. FYI—reading a dozen reviews that just whine for updates is not fun.

** Content? Fic Discussions? Previews?**

Go search my tumblr, 'crownsoflaurels1020'.


	8. Chapter 8

Small dark eyes focused intently on their prey. Unblinking, the lithe, light body pushed forward, bare feet soundlessly pressing against wooden floorboards.

He froze with caution as his prize shifted its weight, but it's large, alien eyes remained closed and its sides, heaving in slumber, continued to rise and fall in a foreign rhythm.

He placed his solitary weapon, a freshly sharpened kunai, between his teeth to have better use of his arms. The taste of metal was sharp against his tongue and his fingers flexed in anticipation. He rocked back on his heels and then forward onto the tips of his toes, crouched, counted to three, and jumped.

Only to be met with the rough thrust of a slimy arm, slinging him forcefully away and smacking into the wall.

He slid to the floor weakly, crumpling forward, bereft of breath and head ringing in pain.

"Asuma!" Came his father's aggravated cry. "What have I told you about harassing that toad?"

Asuma blinked his teary eyes up at the ceiling from where he lay curled on the floor. He could hear the hard thumps of his father's sandals against the floor, leaving the upstairs study and heading in his direction. He closed his eyes just for a moment and when he opened them again two strange golden orbs were looming inches from his face.

"Ahhhh!" He jumped up and lashed out with his kunai, but his wrist was arrested mid-motion by a firm, experienced hand. In one second he was unarmed and dangling in the air by the back of his shirt, being roughly shaken like a misbehaving kitten.

"What did I say about Jiraiya's toad?" Repeated the Hokage, grip tight on his son's shirt.

"What in the world is going on? It's two in the morning!" Asuma turned pleading eyes on his mother as she entered the room, hands fumbling as she tied a sleeping robe shut over her nightgown. Her trained gaze honed in immediately on the matter she deemed to be the highest priority. "Is he bleeding?"

"I'm so sorry, Hokage-sama," croaked the toad, swaying uneasily from side to side. "I was very much asleep, or I wouldn't have been so startled. I would never intentionally—"

"No, no," growled the Hokage, drawing a weary hand down his face. "I've told him a hundred times to leave you be and—"

"Decent ninja are trying to sleep here!" Came the masculine bellow yell from the second floor, muffled by the wooden beams separating the parties.

"Be quiet, Mikio!" Asuma's parents yelled back, in unison.

Asuma accompanied their retort with one of his own. "Shut up, dumbass!"

His father returned to shaking him.

"Don't shake him, Hiruzen!" Biwako hissed at her husband as she retrieved her child and held green hands to his forehead. "He could have a concussion!"

Asuma peered around his mother's fussing hands to try and see his father's expression. His father looked like he thought Asuma'd deserve it even if he did have a concussion. Asuma bit his lip and glared down at the floor. Of course his father would be more worried about the stupid toad. It wasn't hard to see where he ranked on his list of his father's concerns.

"Asuma-kun," huffed the Sandaime. "Why were you bothering Gamamaru? Especially when I've expressly told you to leave him alone at least three times today?"

Asuma remained silent and continued to glare at the floor. He knew the toad was important. The toad was supposed to bring Jiraiya-san and Minato-senpai back from their missions tomorrow. Which was supposed to be _his _day with Dad. Dad had promised and then made other plans.

He'd been forgotten.

Again.

Other things were always more important than Asuma.

"There now," clucked his mother, running her fingers through his bangs. "All fixed up."

"You have nothing to say?" His father's face was flat, eyes hard. "Nothing at all?"

Asuma scowled at the floor, leaning into his mother's soothing hands running through his hair. No way was he going to tell Dad that he'd hoped if the giant dumbass talking frog was gone maybe they could have their afternoon together tomorrow. Like he'd promised.

"Let's just all calm down and get back to sleep and talk about it in the morning," chimed his mother, fingers pressing firmly against his shoulder blades.

"No, I've had quite enough of this." His father put his hands on his hips, wearing the expression that meant that Asuma was going to be doing all his own chores and Mikio's too for at least a week. "When I say no, I mean it Asuma. Gamamaru is essential for the success of a mission, if you'd caused him to disperse to his home—"

"The toad wasn't hurt," blurt out Asuma, unable to keep quiet. "I was!"

Hiruzen raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you were. And you would have been fine if you'd left Gamamaru alone in the first place. _He_ wasn't rushing at you with a kunai." The Hokage stared at the confiscated weapon. "Where did you get this anyway? You know you're only allowed to use live equipment at the Academy, under supervision." His father's eyes narrowed. "Did you break into the weapons chest again?"

Asuma muttered something under his breath.

"Oh, Asuma-kun," his mother sighed.

"What was that?" His father tapped his foot impatiently.

"It's one of Mikio's, he left them out when he was cleaning them the other day." And that was just unfair. Even his stupid older brother got to see Dad more than he did—he got to be useful and go on missions and things.

"We'll revisit the topic of not stealing from your brother in the morning," said his mother with a yawn. "But for now, back to bed." She pushed him out the door.

"Mikio knows better than to leave them out," Asuma retorted hotly. "Aren't you going to yell at him?"

"You should know—I don't—Bed!" Shouted his father, red in the face and pointing upstairs.

Asuma ran.

Biwako and Hiruzen watched him flee, listening carefully for the taps of his feet against the floorboards and the creak of wood as he jumped forcefully onto his futon.

Hiruzen stroked his beard. "I just don't understand what's gotten into him lately. He never used to misbehave like this. It seems like every time I'm talking to him lately I have to scold him about something."

Biwako levelled an unamused expression at him.

"What?" The Sandaime Hokage blinked at her in surprise.

"Would you have made time for him otherwise?" She sniffed and combed her fingers through her long, long brown hair, re-working the braid she'd put it into for sleeping.

"I don't think that's quite called for," said Hiruzen gruffly. "Biwako, dear—" He reached for his wife, but retracted his arm when she pulled away from him. "Darling, we're on the threshold of a _war,_ it's taking everything I have to try and keep the Village together."

His wife of thirty years pursed her lips. "Maybe it doesn't need to be all on just your shoulders anymore."

Hiruzen threw his hands in the air. "Who else would you have me entrust it to? Do you want your children living under Danzō's thumb?" Unintentionally, his voice rose with anger. "Because that world is still entirely possible!"

"I can hear you!" Thumps came from the second floor, pieces of wood flaking from the ceiling.

"Go to bed, Mikio!" Biwako and Hiruzen snapped.

Hiruzen took a moment to take a deep breath and rub futilely at the pressure gathering near his temple. He felt Biwako approach, her shoulder nudging his gently. He let his arm fall and wrap around her, pulling her closer.

"Teenagers," he muttered bitterly into her hair. "When is he moving out again?"

"When he finds someone who cooks better than I do and who will do his laundry," Biwako retorted with dry humor.

"Remind me why we wanted more children again?" Hiruzen meant the question to be light-hearted, but Biwako tensed immediately in his arms, drawing back to glare at him fiercely.

"_You _didn't." She hissed. "I did. I wanted a dozen, but we had two and I'd appreciate it if you at least made an effort not to permanently alienate the ones we were lucky enough to have!"

"That's not what I meant," he raised his hands to rub her arms reassuringly. "That came out wrong; you know I love our sons with all my heart, however trying they might be."

Dark eyes continued to glare at him with hurt. "People love what they pour their time and energy into. I'm not sure you can say that when your children are fortunate if they see you for thirty minutes a week."

"Biwako, we're at wa—"

She held a finger up to his lips. "I know," she fumed. "We were before, we may be soon, and we probably will be once again ten years down the road. But you have two sons in addition to a Village. No one else is going to be their father, no one else is going to take the time and try to make this family work. It's up to you to figure out how to find some time to be there for them. Especially Asuma, Mikio's nearly full grown and was lucky to have your attention to himself through ten years of peace, but Asuma—"

"Fine, fine." Hiruzen nodded, although he had no idea how he was going to accomplish what Biwako was asking of him.

"Don't 'fine' me!" Her eyes narrowed. "How are you going to make good on that 'fine'? That's what matters to me."

"I'll-," Hiruzen licked his lips, tilted his head in thought. Maybe he could talk with his secretary, move some meetings—

Biwako slapped his shoulder and gained his attention once more. "I'll tell you how you're going to make it work. You have three students you've been whining about slacking on responsibilities haven't you? Well, Jiraiya-kun has a daughter now, Orochimaru-kun and Tsunade-chan need students of their own, and Dan has been moping about Tsunade not having time for children for years now. Stop putting them on the frontlines and start giving them some of your administrative duties that let them stay in the Village for a while!"

Hiruzen balked. "Biwako, dear, I can't just take our strongest ninja off the frontlines when we're at war."

"I'm sorry," she looked around the room curiously. "I thought my husband was the Hokage. My mistake, could you direct me to—"

"Be serious!"

"I am serious!" The medic nin snapped. "I'm very serious. Tsunade has outstripped me in every way; she's completely capable of taking over as Director of Medical Treatment and Research. The only thing preventing her is the fact that you won't let me retire. So, if I'm not allowed to retire then you better be putting her to good use elsewhere. And Orochimaru-kun is doing no one any good stuck in a lab where he doesn't interact with anyone all day, especially if you're serious about thinking of him as a possible successor. And it will be good for Jiraiya-kun to be in the village more often now that he has a daughter here. That boy has craved family ties of his own for as long as we've known him, don't take the opportunity to experience that away from him now that it's here—"

Hiruzen released his grip on his wife and waved his hands in the air in distress. "And who am I supposed to be putting on the frontlines then?"

"Oh I have no idea," drawled Biwako, rolling her eyes. "Perhaps you ought to look at a few of those brilliant shinobi we have who are around the same age the Sannin were when they gained infamy. There's a particularly loud red-head with a fondness for ramen I could point you to. She has a brilliant boyfriend who might be helpful to your cause as well. And then we have this huge clan with a world-renown dōjutsu; they always have a prodigy or two lying about. I'm sure if you ask nicely they might let you borrow one. And of course, there's—"

"Fine! Fine!" Hiruzen threw his hands up and rubbed his eyes tiredly in defeat. "You win woman; I'll work on assigning my students more administrative responsibilities. I can't take them off the frontline roster completely, but I'll delegate what I can to them." He dropped his hands, only to find Biwako beaming at him, looking ten years younger in her joy even with the silver that was beginning to thread through her hair.

"Thank you." She stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek, cupping his face with the palm of her hand. "I know it's still an incredibly stressful and dangerous time, but if you can just find an extra hour or two a week for the boys, you won't regret it. I promise. You won't."

"I won't," he agreed with a sigh, wrapping her in a familiar embrace and letting his head rest atop hers.

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" Chiyoko gently murmured the words in her daughter's ear as she rocked the small girl slowly against her.

Katsumi kept her face pressed close, fingers wound tight in her mother's robe and the blanket Chiyoko had securely wrapped around them.

Chiyoko stifled a sigh at her daughter's continued silence and looked out the bedroom window. She couldn't see anything outside from where the two sat curled up on the bed, but the light filtering in through the blinds indicated that the sun was just beginning to crawl slowly over the horizon.

"That's three nights now that you've woken up screaming, sweetheart." Her fingers trailed through her daughter's soft brown locks. "I can't help unless you tell me about it."

Katsumi made a small, pained sound that felt like fingernails digging into Chiyoko's heart. She frowned, but she knew from experience that nothing would make Katsumi talk until Katsumi wanted to talk.

"I've got to start getting ready for work." She gently eased Katsumi from her lap and tucked the covers securely around the child. "Why don't you try to get a little more sleep, ok?"

The school teacher began her morning routine, starting with a shower and then drying her hair and pulling it up into a simple twist. Looking in the bathroom mirror, she could see Katsumi laying on the bed—a small, unmoving lump hidden under the covers.

She dabbed on a little makeup to hide the dark circles that were beginning to develop under her eyes. Neither she nor Katsumi had been getting good sleep lately. She'd stopped Minato the last time he'd dropped off Katsumi to see if he'd noticed anything odd, but he seemed to think that things were fine. The only strange incident he'd observed was a minor meltdown a few weeks ago when Jiraiya had left Katsumi and not said goodbye 'properly.'

Katsumi was funny that way; she had this order that certain things had to happen in, and when that order was messed up she tended to, well, fall apart, for lack of a better word. Her sister-in-law Eri had called it a temper tantrum, but Chiyoko didn't think that was quite right. It wasn't like Katsumi was screaming at all, or yelling out of a desire to have something or because she didn't get her way. It was more like Katsumi was so gripped by terror that she stopped functioning for a little bit. Katsumi didn't seem to like those moments any more than her mother did, but they'd not found a way to avoid the incidents other than humor Katsumi's rituals and desire for organization. Of course, sometimes Katsumi's tendencies were stronger than usual, like _now_. Izumi, who at least had some medical training, had a theory that it had to do with stress and how Katsumi was trying to control situations that were otherwise out of her control, but—

Her second alarm went off, and she finished slipping on her dress so she could go throw a hasty breakfast together. She quickly set out some bowls of ozone and a couple of iyokan fruits on the table. Her toast popped up right as a gentle knock sounded against the front door. She almost tripped in her socks as she scurried to greet today's babysitter. She wasn't going to have time to make lunch today, but fortunately Rin didn't seem to mind making an extra bento for Katsumi and she could grab something at the store on her walk to the school—

"Chiyoko-san," Rin greeted, sounding slightly dismayed. "Activating the seals is for your protection, you know."

"I know," Chiyoko grimaced as she beckoned the girl inside. Rin was almost always the first one here in the morning. From what she understood, Kakashi considered this valuable training time and Obito was habitually late. Minato would join them when he was in town, but he'd been away for the past three days. "Katsumi was just so tired last night that I didn't want to ask her to turn them on."

Rin cast a curious glance towards the bedrooms. "Is she still having trouble sleeping?"

"Yes," Chiyoko sighed, carefully swallowing a mouthful of toast before adding to the conversation. "She won't tell me what's she dreaming about, though. " She wished she had more time to try and work through Katsumi's problems, but time seemed to be in short supply these days. Even for Jiraiya-san, she hadn't seen him for almost a month. _Come to think of it, when was the last time Katsumi saw him? We should probably talk about that_. She caught some crumbs in her hand and tossed them in the trash. "Are you sure she's not read anything or seen something disturbing when she's with you or your teammates?"

"She's seen us train, and we've taken her around Konoha." Rin scrunched her brow in thought. "But I can't remember anything we've done or that she would've seen that would cause such a reaction. Certainly she went through worse experiences on the way to Konoha and didn't react this way then."

Chiyoko finished her toast and took a sip of green tea. "Maybe it's a delayed reaction." Life had certainly been rushing by at whirlwind speed lately. It was possible that Katsumi was only beginning to grasp what exactly could have happened to her when she was kidnapped by those Kusa nin.

"Maybe," Rin agreed. "I could ask her about it if you'd like me to?"

"No." The schoolteacher fluttered her hands dismissively. "If it keeps bothering her, she'll talk to me about it eventually. She just likes to try and work things out on her own first. Eventually she'll get frustrated enough to speak up. Of course, if she brings it up to you, feel free to talk with her then."

She convinced Rin to take a seat at the table and went to rouse Katsumi from sleep and say goodbye for the day. She wished she could ask another teacher to take over the tutoring and makeup exams this weekend, but she was still a little too new at this job to feel comfortable doing so. Still, she could try and make a nice dinner on Sunday night…try and invite Jiraiya over? Was he even in town? Would he come?

Chiyoko dropped her boneless child in the chair next to Rin and placed a parting kiss to her daughter's head. "Please be good for Rin and her teammates, ok?" Fuji-sensei seemed to like cooking, maybe she'd know where the best deals in the market would be; she'd have to ask during the lunch break today. "I love you and I'll see you tonight."

Katsumi grumbled what might have been a return of sentiments as she blinked bleary eyes at her breakfast, only capable of focusing on one thing at a time this early in the morning. She obediently let Chiyoko lead her through the motions of a hug and a kiss goodbye, mumbled something about being safe, and then dropped her head onto the tabletop in an attempt to go back to sleep.

Chiyoko frowned and poked her into a sitting position before she caught sight of the clock and almost flew out the door without her shoes. She steadied herself against the door frame as she slipped on her sandals. "Rin-kun, Please tell me if you notice anything strange, but other than that, enjoy breakfast and have a good day!"

"We will!" Rin promised with a sweet smile. "Have a good day at work Chiyoko-san!"

The door clicked shut, leaving the two girls alone in the apartment.

"'Bito-nii's late." Katsumi mumbled around a spoonful of soup.

Rin hummed in agreement. "He'll be here soon enough; you know how much he likes free breakfast. Here," she gestured toward Katsumi's fruit. "Give me that and let me peel it for you."

Katsumi obligingly rolled the citrus fruit toward the older girl.

Rin took out her kunai and cleared her throat. "Ok, Katsumi-chan, I have a quiz over joints of the body this evening, so let's review the material together."

Katsumi sighed dramatically. "Ok."

"Good! This is the same stuff we've been studying the past few days, so I'll make up some questions and you try to answer." Rin brightly began her inquisition. "Which of the following bones could be classified as being part of a synarthrosis: Atlas, patella, calcaneus, or ethmoid?"

Katsumi's green eyes narrowed rebelliously.

Rin carved off a piece of fruit with her kunai, holding it out on the blade tauntingly. "Get it right and you get a slice!"

The four year old shrunk grumpily into her chair, small feet kicking uselessly back and forth in the air.

"Come on," coaxed Rin. "I know you remember it. You had all of these memorized two days ago."

"Eth-a-moid."

"And why is that?" Rin asked, still grinning.

"Because it's your head," added Katsumi, holding her hand out for her iyokan. She chewed it thoughtfully for a moment, swallowed, and titled her head to one side as she regarded her present company with a deeply thoughtful expression. "I'm not a dog."

"No," agreed Rin, a bit puzzled by the declaration. "But you are exceptional at memorizing things considering your age." Rin smiled charmingly and Katsumi's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And if we learn together, that keeps us both busy, right?"

The medic-nin in training carved off another piece of fruit. "What's the medical word for head, used in the context of joints?"

She hadn't tried Katsumi on abstract questions yet, but she'd come to realize that the key to keeping Katsumi out of trouble was to keep her busy learning things—and if Rin could kill two birds with one stone by including the girl in her studying—regardless of how much of this Katsumi retained long-term—the better for the both of them. Besides, maybe the medical field really would resonate with Katsumi-chan. Konoha could always use more medic-nin.

* * *

"They won't be ready." The Village Elder's voice was flat and low, his disapproval evident only in the narrowing of his visible dark eye.

Orochimaru raised his ink brush, letting his notations dry before he continued. It wouldn't do to smudge his calculations just as he'd completed them. He took his time answering the man. Danzō might be operating on a tight schedule, but the Snake Sannin wasn't bound by the same limitations.

"I'm not sure I understand your question," the Hokage's student eventually replied, dipping his pen in his ink before continuing with his marks. "This is all theoretical; I don't actually have permission to advance to live experimentation."

Shimura-sama scoffed. "We might be at war in the morning, and you care more about having your paperwork in order."

"Well," drawled the Sannin, enjoying the smooth movement of the brush as he spread the ink down the scroll. "Last time I checked, you weren't the Hokage. This is still his Village, after all."

Orochimaru did so enjoy the minute stiffening of Danzō's jaw whenever he made that particular jab. The man was powerful of course, but not unfettered. And Orochimaru intended to keep it that way. He enjoyed the man's patronage, certainly. But, in the end, Danzō's interests were in military domination while Orochimaru's lay with immortality. The two concepts occasionally intersected, but ultimately Orochimaru's pursuit of his own desires would no longer serve to further Danzō's goals.

Danzō had a habit of destroying resources that didn't serve his interests.

_How wasteful_.

The Sannin set his current project down to dry on the desk and pulled out a scroll from a drawer, handing it out to his visitor. "Those results are the ones from the rat trials, the version Tsunade and Sensei were provided with was edited as requested. I do wonder why you are so invested in keeping your interest in dōjutsu from their attention."

Shimura-sama accepted the scroll. "That is not for you to concern yourself with."

"Of course not," agreed Orochimaru, pulling out his next set of notes for review before heading down to his labs. "But Sensei has ordered Tsunade to tighten up our control of medical supplies. I won't be able to obtain any of the samples you're interested in without her knowledge."

Danzō tsked. "It would be easy—"

"I'm not one of your agents," hissed Orochimaru, suddenly venomous.

The elder paused, eye widening faintly in surprise. "No, I suppose you're not." The bandaged man hesitated by the door, hand resting on the frame. "You could be, of course. The offer still stands. I wouldn't limit your access to the resources you need."

Orochimaru turned away. He already knew the subtext of that offer—his access to materials wouldn't be limited as long as his research and Danzō's desires aligned. He incurred a large enough headache working around Sensei's strange sense of 'morals.' He didn't need to try and serve two masters.

Danzō laughed, deep and dry. "One day Orochimaru-kun, Hiruzen is going to open his eyes and realize that he has as tight a grasp on you as the air he breathes."

"Sensei knows who I am," murmured the Sannin, dismissing the man with an elegant twist of his wrist.

"I'm sure he thinks he does," agreed Danzo, tucking the scroll inside his yukata. "But he's a busy man. It's so easy for him to lose track of time, look up, and realize the world has marched on into dark corners while he's been napping."

Danzō's gaze turned shrewd. "We're not so different, Hiruzen and I."

Orochimaru sniffed, keeping his back turned to the man.

"Hiruzen is an idealist, where I'm a realist. But we both cherish that which serves our purposes." His cane tapped against the tiles as he walked out. "Are you still serving your Sensei's purposes, Orochimaru-kun?"

Orochimaru buried the sliver of unease caused by Danzō's unwanted commentary. True, he and Sensei did not always see eye to eye, but the man had always encouraged Orochimaru's growth as a shinobi. Had always accepted him and indulged his quirks, praised his curiosity. He didn't quite understand why he and Sensei disagreed regarding certain issues, but as long as he was allowed to continue increasing his knowledge—researching and working toward his intellectual goals—why should he upset the status quo?

* * *

"Have you been to Ajibana-san's store? That's where you need to go for most of your ingredients, his family has run it for over twenty years now and they rotate sales depending on the day of the week. Today should be spices, if I'm remembering correctly." Fuji-sensei tapped her cheek with delicate pink nails. "Is there anything particular you were wanting to make?"

"No." Chiyoko opened up her hokaben, only feeling slightly embarrassed that the shop owner at which she bought the pre-made bento now knew her by name and she hadn't even been in Konoha a month. Her mother would be so horrified that her daughter couldn't find the time to make her own lunch and was instead wasting money on store-made food. In the town she'd grown up in, this would have been seen as her mother's failure to teach her daughter to cook and run her household efficiently. And more evidence that Chiyoko was an unnatural, immature girl, not suitable for marriage—

Chiyoko shook her head to clear her thoughts. "I'm just so new that I have no idea where to go to get anything, it feels like."

"That's right," Fuji-sensei bit back a giggle. "I keep forgetting that you're new to the Village, not just the school. " The cheerful brunette waved to someone behind Chiyoko and another woman slipped into the empty seat next to her.

"Kinoshita-sensei," greeted the dark-haired woman, voice much calmer than that of her boisterous friend.

"Hirano-sensei," Chiyoko acknowledged with a nod. The newcomer also nodded to the woman sitting to Fuji's left, who hadn't looked up from whatever novel she'd been reading no matter who sat down at the table.

The teacher's room on the first floor was large but plainly furnished. It was lined with bright windows which cast a cheery light, echoed by the generally happy chatter of teachers that sat in smalls groups of desks pushed together throughout the room. Most teachers sat with teachers of the same age group over lunch, discussing how each class was handling the units which were being simultaneously taught to the age group. Since Chiyoko's schedule changed frequently depending on who she was substituting for, she tried to rotate who she sat with depending on the class she taught.

Today she was teaching the third year students. However, the other third year teachers were either naturally taciturn or didn't enjoy her company so she decided to sit elsewhere until she could determine the root of that problem.

She'd wanted to speak with Fuji-sensei anyways, and when she'd arrived Fuji-sensei was busy chatting the ear off of another clearly disinterested teacher.

Fuji-sensei was exceptionally lively and outgoing, and sometimes oblivious to the fact that not everyone was as eager to socialize as she. Fuji-sensei taught five year olds. And loved it.

In contrast to Fuji-sensei's buoyant, youthful countenance, Hirano-sensei, who appeared to be the same age, was much more reserved and graceful. Hirano-sensei also taught five year olds—just, not so enthusiastically. Her manners and movements were so refined that Chiyoko at times felt uncultured and a bit outclassed. Perhaps the woman was related to nobility? But they were in a civilian school. In a shinobi village.

Chiyoko had no idea who the older woman at the table was. She'd seen her around several times now, but had never been introduced. It didn't seem like the unnamed teacher was looking to make friends, either, if the slight downward twitch of her lips that occurred every time Fuji-sensei squealed wasn't coincidental.

"Kinoshita-sensei was asking where the best places to shop are for good deals." Fuji-sensei's hands fluttered in the air as she eagerly worked to catch her friend up on the state of the conversation.

Hirano-sensei's expression remained serene and unmoving. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know," admitted the woman as she smoothly pushed a stray strand of long dark hair over her shoulder. "I don't do the shopping."

Fuji-sensei made a rude noise. "I forget how very much not-fun you are sometimes."

Hirano-sensei didn't appear to care about how fun she was, but was apparently too well-mannered to physically shrug in response to the accusation.

Fuji-sensei gave a loud sigh of disappointment. "I don't know why I eat with you every day; this is easily the most boring lunch table in the teacher's room!"

"You only come over here when you are ignoring your duty to monitor the children's lunch period." Hirano-sensei offered her observation before taking a small bite of rice.

Fuji-sensei's cheeks colored and she puffed up defensively. "Well, it's just that Nakano-sensei doesn't bother me if it looks like we're busy!"

The unknown teacher gave an impolite snort that both the younger women ignored.

"Kinoshita-sensei wouldn't mind filling in for me, I'm sure?" Fuji-sensei eyed the youngest teacher in an unpleasantly calculating manner.

Chiyoko choked a bit on her tamgoyaki, hoping if it appeared like she couldn't breathe the other teacher would change the subject.

Hirano-sensei sniffed. "Don't abuse your authority that way. It's one matter for you to choose to be irresponsible, but another completely for you to try and bully someone who doesn't even have security in her employment here."

Fuji-sensei wilted immediately, sheepish and apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about it like that?"

"It's fine," Chiyoko forced herself to push down her embarrassment and give a strained smile. "Why don't you tell me what your favorite dishes are to make? Since you're so knowledgeable about the markets here you must be quite the cook!"

"Uh, well," Fuji grew flustered and waved her hands. "I'm still learning about the whole cooking thing; I do certainly try a lot of recipes though!"

"Fuji-sensei grew up as a silk merchant's daughter, " Hirano-sensei remarked, as enthused as if she were noting the day's weather. "She did not have the opportunity or need to learn to cook."

"Yeah," Fuji gave a deep, wistful sigh, leaning back in her chair. "I lived in the capital with my mother most of the time and my father traveled a lot. But then I went with Daddy on a caravan one summer and met Hiroji-kun, he's such a dreamboat! He's a tokubetsu jōnin, you know." She held her hand out as if whispering a secret to the other women. "Daddy was horrified, of course, but true love only comes once in a lifetime!" She dissolved into happy giggling.

_Oh dear_. Chiyoko felt a bit dismayed. Hopefully Fuji-sensei admired more about her husband than the mystery of being forbidden.

"I _do_ miss the capital sometimes though, the high fashion and the art and all the beautiful people. You don't even have kabuki here. There was always something new to do or see, it was amazing—" Fuji's eyes lit up in fright and she bolted upright, frantically looking back and forth from wall to wall. "I mean it's nice here, it's really lovely, don't get me wrong!"

Hirano pursed her lips. "No one is going to throw you to the Interrogation Units for waxing nostalgic about the capital."

Chiyoko blinked in alarm, lowering her chopsticks. Were they really that strict here? What was Fuji-sensei worried about? Wasn't Konohagakure part of the Fire Daimyo's domain? Why would it be wrong to talk about the capital?

Fuji twitched. "I know that." The woman didn't sound convinced in her own words. "I just," she looked around quickly, before lowering her shoulders and ducking her head. "I've been here a year and I'm still learning what's ok to say and what's not."

"I don't understand," admitted Chiyoko, feeling very confused. "Why would you be worried about talking about the capital?"

Fuji-sensei looked at Hirano-sensei in concern, as if searching for permission to speak.

Hirano-sensei didn't look up from her meal. "You're from Grass Country, correct?"

"Yes." Chiyoko admitted freely. "I'm afraid I'm completely unfamiliar with the political situation here. I didn't follow the news about Fire Country's Court."

The awkward silence that followed made Chiyoko shift uneasily in her seat. "Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry, I don't understand."

"There's nothing to understand." The unknown teacher spoke up, placing a ribbon in her book to mark her place before closing it and rising to her feet. "Politics aren't anything we should be worrying about. Do your job, serve the village, and let the Hokage worry about how best to serve Fire Country."

And that was apparently the end of that conversation, as the other teachers bowed in submission to the older woman and began clearing off the table in preparation for returning to work.

* * *

"Owwie," commented Katsumi, gazing seriously at the dark haired boy in front of them, collapsing to his knees on the wooden boards of the pier.

"Yes, owwie." Rin agreed, momentarily dropping Katsumi's hands so she could shuffle through her pack for the burn cream she'd put together the other day.

"I almost had it that time, right?" Gasped Obito, rubbing a weary hand across his face, nudging his goggles upwards slightly.

"Lots of smoke." Commented Katsumi eventually, watching the remnants of the failed technique waft away into the air.

Rin said nothing. She didn't see any improvement, but she also had no idea where Obito was going wrong with the jutsu and couldn't advise him on how to improve.

"It's a good thing you wear those monsters," teased Rin, flicking a lens as she settled next to him with her jar of cream. "Otherwise you'd singe those pretty eyelashes of yours right off!"

"Rin-chan!" Obito's face scrunched up in a predictable pout. "Men aren't pretty; we're rugged and manly, weathered by the fearsome power behind our—Ouch! Hey, that hurts!"

"Stop wiggling!" Rin laughed a bit as Obito flinched under the pressure of her hands. She dutifully applied the cream to the burns that always scattered across his face when he practiced the Uchiha clan's grand fire-ball jutsu.

Sensei was still away on a mission with Jiraiya-sama, so the team had fallen back to its usual routine for Sensei-away circumstances. This meant practice in the morning and picking up a few D rank missions in the afternoon—although now they were limited to any that could be accomplished while watching Katsumi-chan of course. They'd come out to the Uchiha clan property to work on water walking that morning, as their usual training ground didn't have a body of water big enough. However, Kakashi had finished lunch early and headed on over to the Tower to pick up their D rank assignments for the day, leaving his teammates to finish lunch with Katsumi-chan and slip in some extra practice.

"Is the Brat back yet?" Obito muttered bitterly, flexing his gloved hands.

"No, there must have been a long line at the mission desk." Rin internally sighed at Obito's refusal to practice this jutsu in their youngest teammate's presence. She knew he was sensitive to Kakashi's criticism, but Kakashi would probably have more insight as to why Obito was struggling with the technique. "I'd still call it quits though, I think you've collected enough burns for one day."

"Katsumi-chan," she called out, part of her new habit of always making sure the younger girl was engaged in her surroundings rather than engaged in planning how to wander off at the next opportunity. "Come tell me what's in this burn salve. Do you remember what the primary ingredient is?"

Katsumi stopped peering precariously over the edge of the pier into the water. She looked up innocently and clutched her rabbit tightly. "Um, it's raw honey and beeswax and…" she bit her lip in thought. "Aloe vera, right?"

"One more," quizzed Rin cheerfully, pulling away from her teammate's wincing face.

"Some type of oil?" Katsumi picked up the jar and looked at the cream curiously.

"Coconut oil." Rin wiped her hands clean on her apron. "That's what accelerates skin regeneration—"

A loud, red-ish gust of air swept by the genin and Katsumi was gone.

Obito gaped at the suddenly empty space. "Seriously?"

Rin blew air out between her teeth and bent over to pack up her cream and the remnants of their lunch.

"That's like, the fifth time in two weeks!" Obito straightened, running a hand through his dark hair in vivid agitation.

"I've got our D ranks," said Kakashi, appearing suddenly in a shunshin. His head bobbed to and fro as he looked flatly at their surroundings. "Where is the girl?"

Obito gave a dramatic groan and fell onto his back, kicking his feet against the ground.

Rin shrugged and gave a sheepish, helpless grin.

"I was gone for fifteen minutes," bit out the youngest boy, clearly unimpressed. He eyed Obito's burn marks speculatively.

"Three guesses," moaned Obito. "And they all have red hair."

Kakashi put away the scroll with their afternoon assignments without so much as a twitch of an eye. He sliced his finger and summoned Pakkun.

"Do we have to go through this?" Obito rolled over on his stomach and pounded the dirt with his fist. "We know who she's with. Probably."

_That _made Kakashi's eye twitch.

"Oh, yes, Hokage-sama," muttered Kakashi sarcastically. "Our client vanished before our eyes and we did nothing because we _think_ we know who took her. We decided it'd be more expedient to see if she showed up for dinner rather than spend any effort tracking her down. That certainly won't add to our lead as record holders for consecutively failing the same mission."

Obito sniffed.

Kakashi's pug announced his presence with a sneeze.

Rin's eyes widened owlishly in wonder. "Did you just make a joke?"

The chūnin ignored her and knelt down to pick up Katsumi's toy rabbit, holding it out to the pug with what practiced ease.

The pug looked nonplussed. "You lose lots of baby."

"We lose the baby a lot," corrected Obito. "Just one baby," he insisted, as the team fell into position following their pair of trackers. "And she's not really a baby; she's a very intelligent, devious four year old. And we didn't lose her, she just got kidnapped. Again. And she didn't get kidnapped so much as taken under mysterious circumstances by someone who is likely her other babysitter but likes to make us sweat and thinks that it's her duty to make training exercises for us when Sensei is out of town. And it's not like she's that put out by the whole thing anyway—"

* * *

Jiraiya grunted as Minato crashed on top of him and sent him smashing into Sensei's courtyard.

"Why is it," he mused, words muffled as he spit out one of Biwako-san's tiger lilies—he'd be blaming _that_ on Minato-kun. "Why is it that when one person is reverse-summoned it's as easy as blinking and being somewhere else, but when two people are reverse-summoned it feels like gravity picks you up and punts you through a wall?"

"I think that should be your next research topic, Sensei." Minato sounded unusually tired, hoisting himself upright with the latticework and holding out a hand for the older man.

Jiraiya groaned and let himself be pulled up to his knees. Belatedly, he tried to put the lily back in the ground and un-smoosh the once pristine flowerbed. Geta weren't kind to fragile flower beds.

"What's all the racket—"

A young voice drew their attention to the engawa.

"Oh." Asuma greeted them flatly, raising one hand in a bored wave. "It's you two."

"Hey Brat!" Jiraiya grinned, teeth gleaming, "How've you—"

"I'll go get Dad." Asuma turned smartly and disappeared around a screen door.

Jiraiya blinked in surprise at the abrupt dismissal. "Was it something I said?" He looked to his blond companion, but Minato simply shrugged before bowing to Gamamaru and dismissing the summons.

"I swear he liked me the last time I was here," the Sannin insisted, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Dad," they heard Asuma yelling in the distance. "That toad guy and his student are here!"

The Sannin huffed. "And he was all, 'Minato's so cool' last time too. Leave for two weeks and we're out of style, kid."

Minato ignored his teacher's mutterings in favor of peering about their surroundings curiously. "What a lovely garden, I've never seen some of these flowers before."

"Thank you," greeted a new voice, both men turning toward it. "I'd forward your compliments to my wife, but then she'd know who squashed her medicinal lilies and I'm not sure you need yet another nickname, Minato-kun."

Jiraiya rose quickly to his feet. "Of course not, better see to Minato's safety and leave the area of the crime as fast as possible."

The Hokage chuckled and beckoned for the men to follow him inside.

Minato, far too used to being blamed for his Sensei's behaviors, settled for rubbing the back of his head with a sad sigh and trudging after the two older men.

Surprisingly, Asuma stood outside his father's study, glaring bitterly at the trio as they made their way inside.

"Thank you, Asuma-kun," acknowledged the Hokage. "That will be all, please go finish washing the windows before your mother gets home. The Sandaime slid the door shut on his sulking child and crossed the room to sit at his personal desk, waving at his guests to take seats in the chairs opposite him.

"What's with your kid?" Jiraiya hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "I don't think I've seen him this grouchy before."

Jiraiya watched closely as his Sensei shook his head, looking more old and tired than his forty-eight years should account for.

"It's a phase, or something," mumbled the Village Leader. "I hope."

"Ah," said Jiraiya, as if he understood what his teacher was talking about. "I thought I squashed his puppy or something and he was too nice to tell me."

"No, no," the Hokage gave permission to Minato to pour the trio some tea. "I'm sure it's my fault; but quite frankly, I haven't the time to sort it all out at the moment." He took a cup from the blond jōnin gratefully. "I'll handle him eventually. However, I'm most concerned with your report, so, if you would, please—"

Jiraiya's face grew grim and he pulled a slender scroll out from his vest, holding it out across the desk. Sensei set aside his drink for the information, gently unfurling the document and quickly scanning its contents.

Minato sat silently next to him, face serene and seemingly content to warm his hands with the heat of his tea cup.

The Sandaime's face fell as he read the report's contents. "So many, then?"

"We can't be completely sure, of course." Jiraiya gestured to the scroll. "But we're fairly confident, as you can see from the notes as we traced the money, that these are the nobles who've hired Iwa-nin in the past year."

The Sandaime stared at the scroll, fingers tracing the notations. "The Daimyo won't be pleased."

"When's that man ever pleased?" Asked Jiraiya, failing to lighten the mood. He sighed and picked up his own cup from where it sat neglected on the edge of the desk.

"I just don't understand…" the Sandaime trailed off, brows furrowed. "We've been cracking down on this since the Daimyo first requested it of us a year and a half ago. " He tugged on his beard, deep in thought. "We've tightened and increased patrols, sent out shinobi to reside in cities across the country in secret, held awareness campaigns with the nobles, bugged and mined fields and forests, spent an inordinate amount of funds on technological surveillance—how are the Iwa shinobi still getting in to accomplish these missions?"

Jiraiya grimaced down at the dregs of his tea. Both he and Minato had turned this topic over and over the past week. The fact of the matter was that if things were truly operating as they should, it should be physically impossible for that amount of Iwa-nin to be moving unnoticed through Fire Country. An assassin or two were one thing, but teams of ninja were an entirely different matter. It pointed to a third party intervening, potentially even treasonous actions by some of their own. But Sensei knew this too, and as hard as he was looking for another answer, the downturn of his lips and the displeased creases in his forehead indicated he knew the most likely answer to his own question.

Missing nobles, dead nobles, suspiciously adept instances of blackmail—clearly there were problems in the courts of Fire Country that were far above the capabilities of the general nobility. Well, the nobility of Fire Country were always a bit of a soap opera. Still, the upward spike in instances of viciousness had captured the Daimyo's attention. While the scents of the individuals who'd accomplished the tasks were long gone, there were still trails that could be followed—money lasted a lot longer than fingerprints and perfumes.

Early investigations had pointed to Iwa, and the Daimyo had banned Iwa-nin from the country, ordering Konoha to see to enforce his orders as the offenders were foreign shinobi. Konoha had obliged, but despite rounding up Iwa-nin, forbidding them travel through the country, and tightening the borders, the problems in the courts persisted. Konoha had escalated its' attempts to oust Iwa, and their efforts had yielded some fruit—such as information that Iwa had crept into Kusa and was setting up bases in Grass Country in violation of both civilian treaties between Fire and Grass countries and treaties between Konohagakure and Kusagakure.

Sakumo had led a team to investigate—and that had gone to complete and utter shit. It was the shittiest shit Jiraiya had to deal with in a long time. And it was still raw. The mere mention of his friend's name was enough to—He didn't want to think about it, there was just this gaping dead space inside—

"Pardon me for asking, Hokage-sama." Minato's voice pulled both the older men from their equally depressed countenances. "But why is Iwa so intent on getting into Fire Country and accomplishing these missions? The money trail we discovered and followed is significant in terms of continuity, but the amount of money, at least in my opinion, doesn't seem like it should be enough for another Village to risk waging war."

"Well," drawled Jiraiya with dark amusement. "Iwa's always been one of the more belligerent Villages. Earth Country's so miserable they've literally got nothing better to do than pick fights."

Sensei snorted. "While that may be true, I agree with Minato-kun that there may be a deeper motivation at play here. Iwa's always desperate for funding as their own Daimyo is more than a bit uninterested in the survival of their Village. He just doesn't see the necessity of supporting shinobi when his own realm is well fortified by natural terrain and he doesn't have the rich resources that would tempt his neighbors to come calling. However, his lack of support and the significant population Iwa boasts has created a greedy, cutthroat village that is known to drive hard bargains. It's the compensation we can't find a trail of that worries me the most."

Sarutobi-sama paused, a sudden thought clearly crossing his mind. He reached into his desk and pulled out a letter bearing the broken seal of Kusagakure. "For example, take a look at this." He slid it toward them. "I'd ask that Jiraiya read it first, as it concerns him."

"What is it?" Minato asked, looking slightly alarmed as he watched the curiosity on Jiraiya's face swiftly transform to anger.

"It's a request from Kusagakure, to return Katsumi-chan." The Sandaime sipped his tea calmly.

"Well they can just fuck off," growled Jiraiya, thrusting the letter at Minato. "Just because she was a 'promising prospect' for their shinobi program doesn't mean they have some type of 'right' to her. She's fucking fine right here. Did you tell them that?"

"Not in those exact words, no." The Hokage watched as Minato's blue eyes scanned the paper critically. "I do believe the sentiment carried across in my response, nonetheless. Did you catch it?"

"Catch what?" Jiraiya's grumble was unamused and agitated.

"The signature line." Minato spoke up, voice thoughtful. "He signs it as the 'Kusakage.'"

It took a moment for the significance of that to sink in for Jiraiya. His dark eyes swiveled back to his teacher. "Don't only the five great villages have recognized 'Kage' as leaders?"

"At this time," agreed the Sandaime, holding his hand out for the return of his correspondence.

"Well," said Jiraiya, mouth dry. "I guess we know what Iwa's promised Kusa then."

* * *

"Ok, Katsumi-chan," whispered Kushina-chan hurriedly as they snuck into the hospital through an open window. Kushina balanced the girl on her hip as she tip-toed through a snoring patient's room and quietly slipped into the hall.

"Remember when I talked about the universe aligning and optimum outcomes?" Kushina leveled unexpectedly serious violet eyes at her charge.

"Yes." Katsumi nodded, green gaze somber.

"It's time to act," continued the red-head gravely. She made her way through the maze of corridors, cautiously peeking around corridors and dodging certain nurses who she knew would be alarmed and complain of her, and raise an alarm upon merely noting her presence.

Yes, she technically wasn't supposed to be here, but still—it was public property, right? _I swear_, _you put slugs in the nap room beds one time and you're never forgiven. _

Tsunade had thought it was funny.

Ok, no she hadn't. But Dan and Jiraiya had laughed.

She smothered her chakra presence as much as possible (which wasn't much considering her little furry parasite) when she heard the voices of their targets. She pressed her back firmly against the wall and addressed Katsumi with one more last minute mission brief.

"You remember what you're supposed to do, right?" Kushina winked when she received a confident nod.

The voices around the corner continued their rhythmic conversation. Good. She'd been slightly afraid she'd be ratted out by the sensor-nin, but he seemed willing to play along today.

"Smile number three," she instructed her companion, wiggling her fingers helpfully. "And give it extra sparkle!"

Katsumi twitched in eager anticipation in her arms.

"Alright," she began to count. "Three, two, one—"

She threw them around the corner. "AUNT TSUNADE!" Both girls exclaimed with bright squeals and grins, bounding up to the startled woman in the middle of the hallway.

"I'm not your Aunt!" The blonde snarled, cocking a fist out of habit. She abruptly aborted the motion when she noted Kushina's company. Eye twitching, she cracked the pen in her hand instead and transferred her glare from adult to child. "I'm not your Aunt eith—"

"Is this Katsumi-chan?" Dan leaned forward with an amiable grin. "How are you, sweetie?" He held his hands out for the child and Kushina was happy to comply, shifting the child's weight into his arms.

"Hi, hi!" Katsumi chirped up at him. "I'm supposed to say thank you to you and Aunt Tsunade for my toys."

"Ah, you liked those then?" Dan beamed. "I'm so glad. See Tsunade, I told you I had good taste."

"I'm not your Aunt," growled Tsunade insistently, placing her hands on her hips. "Don't call me—"

"Of course you can call her Aunt," Dan nodded knowingly, dismissing his fuming fiancé. "And I'm Uncle Dan, ok?"

"See, Aunt Tsunade, it's perfectly fine—"Kushina ended that sentence with a high pitched squeak as Tsunade slugged her in the shoulder, no longer pulling her punch as Kushina was toddler-free.

"Look what you've started," hissed the blonde jōnin. "Stop that. You are expressly forbidden from calling me that—you don't even have the excuse of being four and cute!"

"Fine." Kushina stuck her lip out in a pout and rubbed at her shoulder. She'd gotten what she really wanted anyway. Tsunade needed someone small popping up and annoying her from time to time. Shizune-chan, adorable as she was, was just a little too easily cowed by the Senju Princess to ever try her patience. Katsumi-chan was obviously more naturally inclined to civil disobedience.

'Aunt' wasn't the most appropriate description for her relationship with her cousin anyway. But, as brave as she was, Kushina wasn't going to test the waters further by calling Tsunade 'nee-san.' She hadn't done that since Nawaki died.

"—And I have a niece named Shizune who's only a year older than you." Dan explained to the girl in his arms. "We'll have to set up some time to meet her; I think the two of you will get along great!"

"Can we play in the park?" Katsumi asked curiously, focusing on the man willing to give her his undivided attention.

Tsunade huffed. "Look what you've done," she grumbled to the red-head, gesturing at the pair. "We were talking about possibly securing another vendor for gauze and how to fund the purchase of that old farming silo in the historic district to stockpile medical supplies, but I'm not going to get anything worthwhile out of him as long as there's a baby around for him to play with."

"Is Aunt Tsunade's office here?" Katsumi looked around the hallway, taking in all the strange doors.

"Oh no, it's down this way, I'll show you." Dan began walking down the corridor, spouting off various facts about Shizune-chan and the girl's favorite hobbies and how wonderful the Academy was and how much Katsumi was going to love it here in Konoha—

Tsunade sighed and tugged one of her two ponytails over her shoulder.

Kushina wove her fingers together behind her back and stretched. "Gotta follow them. I think I'm sort-of responsible for her at the moment, dattebane."

The older kunoichi rolled her eyes. "I thought that boyfriend of yours and his brats were responsible for the girl?"

"Yeah," Kushina drew the word out slowly. "But I'm so much more fun! And it's a good training exercise to keep them busy while Mina-kun's away." She ignored Tsunade's confused expression. "Lucky bastard," she muttered under her breath. Minato got all the good missions lately. She'd not been out of the Village in half a year; she was desperate for Sarutobi-sama to let her go do _something_. It felt like she was being grounded. And she hadn't done anything nearly bad enough to earn it, 'ttebane! The thing with stealing all the '9's from every sign in the Village totally didn't count.

Tsunade hummed in sympathy. "Sensei's still not letting you out?"

They stopped as Dan ducked into Tsunade's office, presumably to give the toddler a 'grand' tour. Considering that the amount of filing cabinets in the office left room for little more than a desk and two chairs, neither woman was eager to join the pair.

"No." Kushina scuffed the tiles with the toe of her boots. "He and the Council don't want to let me out of the Village while things are still so up in the air. They don't want to put _it _at risk or antagonize anyone." She bit her lip. "I've got it completely under control, 'ttebane! I'm going to lose my mind if I don't get out this place sometime soon!" She eyed the nearest window with thinly veiled desperation.

"Oh no!" Tsunade reached out and snagged the back of her jacket. "If you're leaving you're taking your toys with you. Neither Dan nor I have time to babysit today!"

"I wouldn't mind babysitting!" Dan poked his head out of her office, eyes bright.

"No." Tsunade held her ground sternly.

Kushina understood. If Tsunade let Dan take the girl home, Katsumi-chan might never see her mother again.

Tsunade cratered almost instantly when faced with Dan's disappointed expression. "Why don't you make arrangements to take her out for ice cream when you pick Shizune-chan up from the Academy tomorrow?"

"Ice cream?" Katsumi perked up at the mention of treats.

"That's a wonderful idea," Dan agreed, grin back to supernaturally blinding. "Katsumi-chan, I take Shizune-chan out for ice cream after the end of every school week, would you like to join us this time?"

"And then the park?" Katsumi tugged on the sleeves of his uniform insistently.

"And then the park—"

"What's this now?" Bellowed a familiar voice. "Are you stealing my kid, Dan?"

"Daddy!" Katsumi shrieked and wiggled to be let down, running toward the man as soon as her feet touched the floor.

Jiraiya scooped her up in a hug, a movement he seemed to have become accustomed to performing.

Kushina tilted her head. Come to think of it, when was the last time she'd seen Katsumi walk anywhere under her own power?

"Hey brat!" He tossed her up and caught her. "How've you been?"

"Daddy, I missed you!" Katsumi wrapped her arms around his neck. "You were gone forever!"

Jiraiya's face scrunched in confusion. "It was just two weeks," he protested.

"Forever," repeated Katsumi firmly.

_Awww_,_ he's kind of cute with her. If only he behaved so well around women in general._ Kushina's heart skipped a beat when she saw Minato rounding the corner a few seconds after the older man, trotting to catch up to the group.

She promptly glomped him, sending him crashing back into the wall. "You're back!" She peppered his embarrassed face with kisses, enjoying how quickly he could become so pink.

"Ughh," Tsunade interrupted, pulling her off the blond jōnin with a grunt. "Go be full of teenage hormones somewhere else; you're in the middle of a hospital!"

Kushina hung off her boyfriend's arm. "You're good, right?" She gave him a once over, patting his ribs where he frequently left himself open and was known to hide wounds. He didn't wince. She smiled up at him and snuggled against him, reaching up to pet his fluffy hair. "You're good."

He looked a bit exasperated, but didn't push her away.

"Have you been good for Minato's team while I was gone?" Jiraiya asked his daughter, waving to Tsunade and Dan over her head.

"Maybe." Katsumi looked at him with bright eyes. "Did you bring me a present?"

Jiraiya scoffed. "Your past behavior can't be contingent on something that happens right now!"

"Present?" Katsumi persisted with her inquiry, beginning to poke around in the inner pockets of his vest, where she'd probably seen him store things on previous occasions.

"Uh well," Jiraiya stuttered through an explanation while simultaneously batting his daughter's hands away from finding dangerous items. "There wasn't really time to-how about I take you out for dessert later?"

"No," Katsumi frowned. "Uncle Dan's taking me for ice cream with Shizune-chan tomorrow. I don't need more sweets." Her eyes turned trembly. "Did you forget me?"

"No!" Jiraiya's dirty look at a sheepish Dan turned into panicky backpedaling. "That's not it all, I just uh—lost it—"

Minato pulled something from his pocket and pressed it into the older man's hand.

Jiraiya blinked down at a glittering green and gold disc on a pink ribbon. His eyes flickered quickly to meet Minato's amused gaze.

"Of course he remembered you, Katsumi-chan." Minato adopted his 'soothing the client' tone.

Kushina tried to lean around him to get a better glimpse at the object.

"He just asked me to carry it home because he didn't trust himself not to break it!" Minato gave the girl a cheery grin.

"That's right," Jiraiya jumped on the explanation, handing the necklace over to Katsumi for inspection.

"Wait a minute," Kushina peered at the gift, puffing her cheeks out in displeasure. That thing looked nice. "Did you bring me anything then? Where's mine?"

"Right here," assured Minato with a laugh, pulling a similar item out of his pocket. "I worked with a glass-blower to get some quick change. It's amazing how useful a lightning affinity and some fire jutsu can be in a tradesman's shop. These two were mistakes actually, they were going to be scrapped. I thought they looked neat though and that you might like them."

Kushina looked at her bauble, holding it up to the fluorescent hospital lighting and admiring the way the light filtered through the colored glass. "How pretty! It's probably even better outside, right!" She twirled toward her boyfriend. "And you made it Mina-kun! I love it!" She kissed him on the cheek and bounded over to Katsumi to compare the two trinkets.

"Look Katsumi, mine's red!" She pulled the child away from Jiraiya and set her down, working to adjust the length of Katsumi's cord so the necklace would hang properly around the small girl's neck.

"I didn't know you'd fine-tuned your control over your secondary affinity that well," Jiraiya remarked.

Minato rubbed the back of his neck at the praise. "I've been practicing a lot lately."

"Sensei!"

Kushina twitched.

Minato's blue eyes widened in surprise at the loud exclamation. They widened even more as his three students and a dog came skidding around the corner, flustered and huffing.

"We found you!" Yelled Obito, sprinting down the hallway and pointing vehemently at the red-headed kunoichi.

Kakashi said nothing, but his narrowed gaze spoke of impatience and overexposure to the company of his peers.

"Stop yelling," shouted Rin, trailing behind them by a mere few inches. "This is a hospital!"

"Oh no!" Kushina hissed at the rapidly advancing team. "Come Katsumi-chan, we can't be caught this easily!" She cackled loudly and scooped the girl up in her arms. "The game's afoot!"

"Thank you for my present!" Katsumi called back over the shoulder of her captor. "Buh-bye, be safe!"

Kushina ran farther into the hospital, ducking into the nurse's lounge and most likely out the window.

Jiraiya could only wave belatedly in response. "Bye?"

"Can't stop Sensei, gotta get the kid back!" Obito and Kakashi barreled past the group, intent on catching up with the red-head. "Hi Sannin-samas, Bye Sannin-samas!"

Pakkun tripped over his paws and rolled to a stop against Jiraiya's feet.

"I'm so sorry Tsunade-sama," called Rin as she chased after them. "We'll stop running in the halls, I promise!"

"What the hell is that about?" Tsunade turned to Minato, demanding an explanation for his students' erratic behavior.

Pakkun stumbled up on four paws, shook himself, and then promptly sat down again. "I find baby, I no run more forever." He delivered his words in a stately, formal fashion.

Dan's lips twitched.

"I'm so sorry." Minato's hands fluttered uselessly in the air. "I'll go talk with them!" He bent down and scooped up Pakkun and jogged off in the direction that the group had disappeared.

"Does that count as child abduction?" Jiraiya was uncertain whether he should be concerned with whatever it was that had just happened.

"I think Kushina-chan's just going a bit stir crazy." Tsunade waved her hand dismissively. "Was there a reason you came here, other than to cause chaos in my domain?"

"Uh, yeah," Jiraiya shook his head, turning to head into Tsunade's office and beckoning for her to join him.

"You're not actually hurt are you?" Her assessing gaze gave away her sincere concern and it was Jiraiya's turn to wave dismissively.

"I'm fine, fit as an ox!" He boasted, patting his arm.

"Why did Minato-kun need to work for a glass blower?" Mused Dan, following the pair inside the office.

"That's irrelevant," Jiraiya scowled. No way was he fessing up to blowing their spending money in the red light district the first few nights of the week. They got valuable leads there anyway, so it was money well spent. Women in those places always had the best gossip, were good at ciphering fact from fiction, and were fairly open, if you knew how to ask and how to listen.

Minato had long since picked up an odd assortment of talents to help earn spare money on their missions, he knew how it worked. It'd gotten to the point where Jiraiya didn't even ask him anymore what he got up to in his spare time—he could be chopping lumber, lock-smithing—he'd told Minato all those D ranks would come in handy one day.

Anyway, back to business. He cleared his throat and reached into his vest and pulled out a scroll, unrolling it across his teammate's desk.

Both Dan and Tsunade leaned forward curiously as he released the seal, a dozen small vials wrapped in paper and tied with twine popping into existence before them.

Tsunade pulled on some gloves from a drawer. "What am I looking at," she asked briskly, picking up the first package.

"Blood samples." Jiraiya pointed to the vials. "Ten of those are from recently deceased civilians, all related to or vassals of Fire Country nobles residing in the capital."

Dan looked uncharacteristically grim, eyes dulling. "You think they're from Earth Country?"

"Unfortunately," the toad Sannin sighed. "I'm confident the samples will reveal the poisons are those commonly used by Iwa-nin. But it never hurts to test the materials and make sure we're not dealing with somebody else too."

"I hope not," murmured Tsunade. "The Kazekage keeps saying they're upholding their trade embargo against Earth Country in return for our goods, but Suna's poisons are still known as the best. "

"But Suna is supposed to have tight control on their poisons right?" Dan reached for a glove to examine the vials more closely himself. "I thought Orochimaru told me once that Suna's poisons were created by a shinobi guild that kept close guard of the recipes, ingredients, and distribution. Is that still the case?"

"Supposedly," agreed Jiraiya.

Tsunade pulled at some twine and unwrapped the paper around the vial. "These are notes?"

Jiraiya nodded. "Victim and characteristics, symptoms of poisoning, autopsy results, everything you like."

"Good." Tsunade nodded. "That'll make this go quicker."

"What are these last two?" Dan picked up one of the two vials that didn't have notes attached to it. He squinted to examine it, rotating the vial in his hands. "Is this an actual poison?"

"Maybe." Jiraiya grunted. "A contact got it from a geisha who purported to have been paid to put it into a frequent customer's drink. I brought it back for Tsunade to test too, I don't know enough about poisons to actually take a look at it myself. Well, for Tsunade and Snake-boy to look over, but he wasn't in when Minato and I stopped by."

Tsunade snorted in amusement. "I'm glad to hear you've developed a sense of self-preservation in your old age, although it doesn't surprise me that Orochimaru would make himself scarce when you wanted him to do something that would take him away from his own research." She beckoned for Dan to pass her the vial in question. "Who was the intended victim?"

"I don't know." Jiraiya grimaced, rubbing tiredly at the scruffy growth on his cheeks. He needed to shave soon. "The contact refused to reveal the identity of the geisha, and I'm not sure the geisha told him who the intended victim was in the first place. I think her customer's just lucky that the girl happens to like him more than the person who gave her the orders to poison the poor bastard. And, honestly, Minato and I were under strict orders to simply ferret out whether Iwa was still acting in the blackout, not actually stop any plots that might be underway. With the way missions have been going lately." He swallowed, reluctant to voice that line of thought to its conclusion. "I decided not to test Sensei's patience too much."

"This sounds like some type of civilian plot," murmured Dan, tapping the desk with his fingers. "I don't know any Village that operates that way—they all would have sent their kunoichi in to do the job themselves."

"It's entirely possible, the Court's such a mess recently that this may be a simple, local plot." Jiraiya stood with a yawn. "But it doesn't hurt to have Tsunade check it, just in case. Daimyō's pissed at us enough as it is that we haven't been able to end Iwa's influence in his city. Sensei says its top priority, by the way." He flicked his fingers at Tsunade, indicating she was now in charge of the mess. "Once he has this he can send the results of the last investigation off to the Fire Daimyō, and then hopefully they'll send a joint missive off to the Earth Daimyō and the Tsuchikage requesting that they cease and desist or face the consequences."

Dan's lips twisted.

They all knew how unlikely such a request was to be followed.

"Maybe we'll be able to resolve things once we can confirm their violation of the Daimyō's orders." Dan made a poor attempt at optimism. "It's not war yet, after all."

"Maybe," murmured Tsunade, attention more focused on examining the vials presented to her than actually participating in the discussion.

Dan's gaze trailed sadly over the vials sprawling across his fiancé's desk.

"I'll show myself out," Jiraiya said with a sigh. He understood his comrade's concern. They'd all lost a lot in the last war. There was no telling what this one would take from them.

He stopped for a moment outside the hospital, watching the sun sink low in the sky. He turned away from it, relying on muscle memory to guide him home as he mentally reviewed the day's events. He was desperately trying to think of something that Sensei or Orochimaru or Tsunade or Dan or the Elders or _anyone_ had missed about this scenario. Surely there was a way to avoid further violent escalation of violence.

He didn't come up with a solution. The most brilliant minds in his country had been working on this problem for months, how was he going to find an answer they missed?

His thoughts drifted to the novel he'd started so many years ago, dusty and abandoned. He'd thrown it in a drawer at the end of the last war—when victory was theirs but the cost was far too high. Tsunade was broken and hysterical in her grief; refusing to set foot in the hospital for months and so deep in her cups he was half afraid she'd drown in them. Orochimaru'd shut himself in his lab, terrified of their mortality and intent on throwing all his brilliance into finding ways to cheat death.

Jiraiya himself had gone on a three year drinking/travelling/find himself journey to try and forget the five children that had been his to train and yet hadn't lived despite his best efforts. He'd been shaken enough when Minato's teammates had each perished. When Danzō had told him those three kids from Ame had died too—

He was lucky Minato and Sakumo cared enough to keep tracking him down and dragging him out of whatever hole he'd crawled into. It wasn't the prettiest time in his life—he'd met fascinating people and learned fascinating things—but he'd also behaved fascinatingly poorly.

He'd told Sensei he'd been trying to figure out how shinobi could live in peace with each other. It'd been the truth—once. What a silly dream. The older he became the more impossible it seemed. The more futile any efforts to obtain it seemed too. He kicked some pebbles out of the road in his irritation. He still didn't have an inkling of the answer for his protagonist. He didn't even have a good outline for a plot —

"Jiraiya-san?"

He looked up at the greeting, shielding his eyes as the glare of the sunset prevented him from seeing who was calling to him.

His shoulders relaxed as he recognized the woman's profile. "Chiyoko-san. Good to see you." He paused. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm walking home—I'm working at the school over there." She pointed to a large building a block away. "I just finished supervising the after-school study hall."

Jiraiya mentally filed the location of the building away in his head, in case he needed it later.

"Let me walk you home," he offered. Those types of things were expected in these types of relationships, right? Not that he wanted more than a friendship—er, working parent-ship with Chiyoko-san. She was a lovely girl, but really not the type to flirt with or—well, he got the sense that she was the type of woman one didn't start something with unless it was serious. To do otherwise would be…rude or something. _How the hell did we have a kid in the first place_? He scratched at the back of his head in wonder as the mother of his child continued to chatter away.

"I'm glad to see you," Chiyoko parroted back at him, stepping closer. "Katsumi-chan hasn't seen you in a while and she's been asking for you."

"Ah," he nodded. "I was away on a mission, but I saw her about an hour ago. She's with Minato and Kushina and the kids, I'm sure they'll have her back soon."

Of course he knew _how _they'd had a kid. Sometimes he even thought he might remember a little about the time he first met her. She'd hold her head a certain way or laugh—and then the flicker of memory vanished and he was forced to remind himself that this was why he'd stopped drinking so heavily with female company. It wasn't good that he couldn't remember encounters with foreign women. How many other kids out there could he possibly have? Those three years were pretty blurry.

"Oh good," Chiyoko babbled. "I know she enjoys spending time with them. And she'll be glad to see Minato-kun again too. I was wondering—"

Maybe he'd met her when she was in a rebellious teenage phase? He never did ask her how old she was—he'd have to sneak a peak in Tsunade's medical files. Wait, Tsunade didn't have medical files on her, did she? Chiyoko was a civilian. He knew she'd started one on Katsumi, but would that have her mother's date of birth?

"—that's only if you're ok with it of course. I don't mean to impose—"

How the hell was he supposed to ask her how old she was and not have it come across as the rudest, most ridiculous question? Did other men wind up in these predicaments? Did he really need to know—this was going to bother him for the rest of the week, he just knew it. He should just say she was in her mid-twenties and be done with it. Surely that was ok? She couldn't be older than thirty—

He caught Chiyoko looking expectantly at him from the corner of his eye.

He backtracked, "I'm so sorry, I was lost in thought! Did you need something?"

She giggled. It made her look younger. Shit, maybe she really was in her early twenties? He really hoped she'd been at least 16 when they first met. He didn't usually care enough to ask, but the possibility that she was _that _much younger than him and he'd left her with a kid in a super-conservative town on her own because he was drunk and careless and selfishly engaging in whatever it took to make the pain stop for just a few seconds-_ughh_, it wasn't the nicest feeling.

"I asked if you would have dinner with us on Sunday nights," explained the woman with a pretty smile, completely oblivious to Jiraiya's internal monologue. "I know you're busy during the week, but if you don't make time to see Katsumi, you won't see her at all. So, if you'd like, I was hoping maybe you could start coming over to dinner regularly on Sunday nights."

"Oh," Jiraiya responded gruffly, at a loss for words. That was really nice and thoughtful of her. The last person who'd made him dinner had been Biwako-san, and she hadn't had the team over for a meal in years. He supposed she thought they were all grown-up now and could take care of themselves.

That and Asuma had been an attention-hungry little gnat since birth.

"I'm afraid that I'm out of town a lot," he confessed. There was no avoiding that. "You might wind up making a meal that I won't show up for."

"That's fine," Chiyoko brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe you could send a note or a toad if you can't make it. But if you're in town, we'd love to have you over."

He still felt a bit off –kilter. Was this normal?

How stupid, of course family members eating together was a normal thing. They were the abnormal ones here. But Chiyoko-san was trying to fix some of that, for Katsumi-chan, so that Katsumi could have that family thing.

Jiraiya hadn't had it, growing up. He'd been fine on his own, enjoyed it for the most part too. There were moments though, where being the only person in the room got a little lonely.

When he was young, he fought the ache of silence by searching for adventures. The responsibilities of adulthood made that a bit harder to do.

Still, just because he liked being on his own didn't mean Katsumi did.

Wouldn't hurt to try. Could be nice, even, just for a while.

"I'll be there then," he said gruffly.

Apparently that was the correct answer because Chiyoko beamed back at him, beginning a barrage of questions about what types of foods he liked and if he was allergic to anything and warning him that Katsumi would probably want him to stay long enough to read to her after dinner.

He thought of his book again, entombed in its drawer. Would Katsumi like it if he ever finished it, if he read it to her? Maybe he should.

After all, she was _his_ daughter.

It made sense that he should try to teach her about what a shinobi should be. That they weren't just tools to be hidden in the shadows and brought out only to do the work that no decent person would lower themselves to do.

The world they lived in would work hard to convince her that she was a weapon, meant only to do her master's bidding without complaining and as efficiently as possible. The nobles would tell her that, the civilians would spit that at her, jealous and disdainful at the same time. Heck, even her friends would parrot that goddam rule book at her—fuck she was already quoting that awful thing, wasn't she? Minato had told him that.

He ought to find something to give her hope, before life stripped it away.

He'd finish the book.

* * *

Rev. 5/9/16

**A/N &amp; FAQ**

**1) Does Katsumi have OCD/OCPD?**

As a SI, Katsumi is based on my childhood self. She is operating with the same mannerisms and tendencies that I did as a child. As a four year old, I had rituals, which if I left unperformed, I was convinced people would die or horrible things would happen. I had a fixation on organization and order, especially with colors, toys, books, and clothes. Was I ever diagnosed with OCD/OCPD? No. Do I understand what those are? Yes, I have a BA in Psychology with a focus on adolescent development.

If I really behaved that way as a child, why weren't my parents concerned/ why didn't they take me to a psychologist? Because my mother had her masters in Child Developmental Psychology and money was tight. Right or wrong, she decided that she could deal with whatever issues her children had. She taught me how to manage my anxiety/stress/fixations with rituals and orders based on her extensive education and experience in that area.

Please don't accuse me of 'appropriating' OCD/OCPD. These are my own behaviors and my own experiences that I'm writing about. If it's not 'true' to your experience with OCD/OCPD, that doesn't mean I'm doing something wrong by writing a character who has tendencies somewhat similar to those disorders. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, move on, this note isn't for you. I'm writing this particularly for a few anon. reviewers who can't seem to leave this alone.

**2) The Sarutobi Family:**

Biwako was from a small clan that joined Konoha after it was founded. While her clan was small, her immediate family contained seven brothers and sisters. She grew up in a large family with lots of children and enjoyed her siblings. Despite, or perhaps because she lost most of her siblings in wars, she has always wanted to recreate a large family for herself. She married Sarutobi Hiruzen when they were fairly young. Their relationship has endured two wars and is about to be put through a third. Because of various circumstances including the demand of her husband's job, the demands for her own skills on the battlefield as a jōnin medic, the existence of wars and various political feuds, she never got her large family. After suffering a few miscarriages, she had one son, Mikio, and she shelved her dreams for more children. Instead, she focused on mothering her own child, and the orphaned students that her husband collected. Hiruzen thought this was perhaps for the best, because with his position he not only had very little time to give children, but he'd also automatically put any child in significant danger and burden them with significant expectations.

However, fairly late in life, when Biwako and Hiruzen were 41, Biwako discovered she was pregnant with Asuma. Biwako was ecstatic, Hiruzen privately thought they were a little old for dealing with newborns and teething and toilet-training again but wisely kept his mouth shut. Of course, his personal trepidation about having another child fairly late in life did not diminish his love for Asuma in the slightest.

**3) Will this ever be posted on AO3?**

Yes, it is. I finally got around to cross-posting it there. FFnet will always be updated prior to AO3, but if you prefer the reading format of AO3 you can find it there too. Same story title and author name..

**4) About Reviewing…**

Yes, please review. Tell me what you liked. Tell me what thoughts and questions got stirred up in your head. I don't promise to answer them, but I do like to hear what your impressions as a reader are. Tell me your favorite line, what made you laugh, what tugged at your heartstrings,what got you excited about reading this fic, what reminded you why you loved reading this fic.

Please **DO NOT: **try to tell me what to write next, point out spelling/grammar mistakes, argue with me about the characterization of any OCs or the SI, demand an update, or whine about Katsumi not being central to this particular chapter.

**5) Thanks: **ElectraSev5n and Elelith, who took the time to look over this chapter and give me some feedback prior to posting it out to the world.


End file.
